Hoarfrost Pass
by Ysavvryl
Summary: Two men encounter each other in Hoarfrost Pass, one in search of a missing princess, the other in search of a way to save his soul. Is this destiny? Or will this encounter of different cultures lead to war?
1. A Few Years Ago

_This is a re-imagining of the story of a rapid-evolving item on Gaia Online. As a warning, it has sexual themes, violence, and other things that people may find offensive and controversial. It is not intended to offend anyone, though, and I stick by my integrity in not using gore or porn in stories._

**Hoarfrost Pass**

**Chapter 1: A Few Years Ago**

The smells of dried straw, horse manure, sea water, and old blood greeted Stieg's alertness. By the calls of the birds, he could tell it was morning. The cold damp air rested on his exposed skin, save for the rough rope around his wrists and neck. Deep inside, there was an ember of rage still burning, searching for fresh fuel. It could burn within his veins and give him power, unstoppable power. He could rip out of these bindings and tear into those who made him a captive. They would regret... wait, he couldn't do that. In a flicker of memory, he recalled that it was his own tribe that had done this.

A grassy-smelling warm muzzle snuffled against his cheek. For a moment, the rage tried to take hold at the unexpected touch. Stieg gritted his teeth and tried to keep it from taking over. He opened his eyes and saw a gray horse standing over him; Smoke was seeing if he was awake. How could he lose control just because his horse was being friendly? He looked down and saw the dark blood crusted on his bruised body. What had happened yesterday? They wouldn't beat on one of their own. Unless...

He had seen many enemies around him, all strong and out to kill him. But he was glad. He would defeat them all or die trying. With the blood rage of battle blazing through his blood, there was no reason to hold back. He would cut them all down. When they ripped his axe away and began pulling him to the ground, he kicked and bit and punched with unrestrained glee. The power filled him and made his vision blur with blood. They were all enemies to be destroyed.

Although it was just a memory, the rage started to spread through his chest. Stieg felt like yanking the ropes so hard that the fencepost would come right out of the ground. And he would fight back, armed with the ropes and the post. But he shouldn't do that. He was in the horse pen without his fur cloak, tied down like a dangerous animal. Between that and the beatings, it could only mean one thing. He had killed one of tribe while in his frenzy. Maybe more than that, as he couldn't remember anything but the powerful thrill.

He wasn't a man, just a dangerous animal.

At the insistence of his horse, Stieg pushed himself off the ground but remained sitting. He acknowledged Smoke by bumping with his forehead, since he was restrained with his hands behind his back. Then he bowed his head and closed his eyes, trying to clamp down on the power trying to overtake him again. The blood rage was what made his tribe strong, feared even outside the northern lands. But if the warrior couldn't control that power, then he wasn't really a man and had to be put down like any other dangerous beast. He didn't want to die as an animal, his name forgotten by his tribe.

The keeper of the horses came in and led them out to graze elsewhere. Stieg was left where he was. Once he was alone, a horn was blown outside the gate. Then it was time. The rage within him still burned, while the rays of the sun barely warmed his pale skin. As his fellow tribesmen gathered, he fought within himself to keep in control.

The men surrounded him, wearing the furs and bones that showed their pride in past battles and hunts. One of them cut the ropes tying him down. Although he gratefully moved his hands, he did not get up from kneeling. He wanted to speak, tell them that his life was theirs to decide as he had forsaken his rights by losing control. He wanted to admit to guilt. But his rage demanded that they all die for humiliating him; the struggle against that desire choked all words out of his throat.

Stepping in front of Stieg, the chief grabbed his chin and forced him to look up. In his other hand, he carried a hunting knife. That was not what one killed a warrior with. That was what killed a hunted animal so that it did not suffer needlessly. Accepting that as what he deserved, Stieg did not flinch nor look away from the chief. The rage did not like that, but if he gave in now, it would only be worse.

The chief put the knife to Stieg's throat. For several minutes, nothing happened. Then one of the other men threw Stieg's fur helm to the ground beside him. Another dropped a bedroll; then came his boots, armor, travel pouches, a saddle, and a blanket. Finally, the chief dropped the knife onto the pile. "You accept that you deserve to die like the beast you were. In doing so, you prove that you are more than that. But you are still a danger to the tribe. You must leave until you can gain control over the power within your blood."

His fate was to be banished instead? It was dangerous to live alone in these harsh lands, but they had given him the tools he needed to survive out there. With the shock of that calming his rage some, he replied, "I thank you for your mercy."

But he didn't want to put them in danger longer than needed. Stieg got to his feet, put on his gear, then left the horse pen. On his way out of the village, his horse followed after him. Although he trusted him greatly, Stieg knew that even Smoke was in danger around him. Even he would be seen as an enemy to the unchecked rage. But the horse would not go back and the keeper didn't even try to stop them.

Patting the horse's forehead in gratitude, Stieg accepted the one companion. He tied the saddle and blanket on the horse, then rode out into the wilderness. He didn't know how, but he would find a way to gain control of himself. Until then, he could never return home.

* * *

The main road was made of gray stones, shaped to fit together snugly and smoothed for ease of travel. For generations, the northern tribes had followed dirt trails between their villages, trails that could be wiped out by storms and grasses. About twelve years ago, men from the south had come to turn the road to stone and build a wooden fort. They had tried to win the northern people over with fantastic items: beautiful pottery, strange foods, aromatic spices. But the majority of those items were luxuries, not practical for their intended purpose. Some did not have any practical purpose, just extra weight when moving. Stieg's tribe, the Varda, had been one that had attacked and destroyed the fort, to punish the southern empire for their arrogance. But they left the roads alone, for their usefulness was too good to ruin. He had just been a boy then, but he remembered the stories his father and others told proudly.

As he headed to town, Stieg heard the hooves of four horses running on the road. He was walking alongside his horse, so he nudged Smoke off the road and glanced back to check. They did not slow as they approached, so they were likely neutral. As they came by him, though, he recognized them as from his village. The spike helm and reins on their horses were signs of the Varda tribe. More in particular, one of the women could have become his wife if he hadn't terrified her with his rage on the beach one night.

Not that it mattered. If the marriage had gone through, she probably would have been killed given how little it took now to trigger his fury. And he didn't feel any particular attachment to her now. She was quite beautiful, but even that didn't help.

Still, it wasn't nice when she met his eyes, recognized him, and screamed for a bit. The others slowed their horses, confused and concerned by this. Stieg looked away from them, ahead towards town. He would have let them just pass by without a word. Safer that way, for everyone. But one of the men didn't want to leave it be. "You devil! You killed my father and uncle. I should kill you where you stand."

Then not everyone from his village was as forgiving as those who had been at his banishment. Smoke stepped nervously, so Stieg gently pushed him towards the open field. "If you must, send your horse away."

"We're on an errand," the other woman in the group reprimanded them, refusing to even look at Stieg.

The man dismounted his horse, taking a large-bladed sword off his back. "Then you go on. It's more important that I bring justice to this wretched one."

"Fine," she said, reaching out to his horse and signaling it to follow her's. She and the other two continued on to town.

Smoke was a safe distance away for a regular battle; he knew to flee if one of the warriors became enraged. Although the flames inside hungered for such a battle, Stieg tried to resist it as he took hold of his battleax. "I hope you're prepared to face death," he said, more as a warning than a threat.

"They shouldn't have let you free, beast!" the younger man said, his eyes turning red as he called on his rage. He swung his sword at Stieg viciously.

Stieg blocked the blow with his ax, noticing that the power of this man's rage was lacking. Good for him, he could remain human. The fires of his rage began to spread, so he had to take quick action. Stieg put as much of his power as he could into swinging low with the side of his ax, not the edges. Although blunted, a crack of bone could be heard from the blow as well as a clatter of metal as the young warrior fell to the ground. He tried to pick himself up and get his dropped sword.

"Don't," Stieg said, putting his ax over his peer's chest. "Or do you want to ruin your leg for life?"

"I want to kill you," he replied, hatred roughening his words.

While he could just leave him, Stieg knew that if something wasn't done soon, this young man's leg wouldn't heal right. It would give him the shame of being a burden on the tribe when he couldn't fight or hunt well. Stieg kicked the sword away, then whistled for Smoke to return. Ignoring the curses, he took some healing paste and cloth bindings from his packs, then knelt down to take care of the broken leg. The rage turned on Stieg and became painful, but he had to ignore that for now too.

The red left the young man's eyes; he definitely was in control of his blood power. "Shouldn't you kill me for losing a battle so easily?" he asked, ashamed.

Stieg glared at him, knowing that there was always some red in his eyes now. "If it had lasted much longer, you would have died," he growled. "Would you have me kill more of my people?" The rage burned hot and painful within him, wishing that he would kill this enemy. Instead, Stieg pulled his peer to the side of the road. "Keep your weight off that leg until you get seen by the healers." Then he got up and stormed off into the trees where Smoke had gone.

Barely keeping himself in check, he wondered if he should avoid his horse for now. But then he found the gray stallion taking advantage of a stream for a drink. No matter how much he wanted to give into the rage, Stieg always worried about the horse getting hurt. Smoke was the only one foolish enough to follow him out of loyalty. It wasn't enough to give Stieg control over the power, but it was enough to keep him from losing his mind.

Stieg sat down by one of the trees and put his head in his hands. He was shaking, his body tense with pain and fire. According to Vardan lore, a demon had once cursed the tribe's men with blood rage, for the chief had resisted its temptation. With wisdom and the loving support of his wife, the chief gained control over it, then taught the others how to turn it into their blessing. Stieg and most of his peers had once expressed disbelief that it was ever a curse. But his current condition proved it.

Smoke snorted, trying to get his attention. Then he came over and bumped Stieg's forehead with his nose. That broke him out of the rage's hold quicker than anything he could manage on his own. Patting horse in gratitude, he found his hands wet with tears. At least it was only Smoke to see him like this. Stieg washed his face off with the stream water, then considered staying away from town today. But Smoke needed to see a farrier and he didn't want to cause problems for his friend. After waiting a short time to make sure that the rage was an ember again, they continued on to the town.

Because this town was right by the imperial road, it had quickly grown into a market center for the northern tribes. Many of the buildings were new, more permanent stone structures than one would find in most villages. It was quite busy today, with many goods being traded, even some from traders daring enough to go down south. Even with all the people, horses, and dogs around, Stieg found no trouble in leading Smoke through the streets.

That was because people were steering clear of him. They saw his eyes and were afraid. Focusing on his search, he blocked out their reactions and whispers. If he let himself hear their worries about and names for him, it might incite the rage. He just wanted to get his business over with and leave without any more bloodshed.

He left the main market street to find a stable a short distance from the main crowd. Having been here before, he knew this one would take care of Smoke well. The master farrier and a young apprentice of his were already working on another horse, with three others milling around away from the noisy market. All Varda horses, from the group that had passed him. The apprentice glanced over and said, "Sorry sir, you'll need to wait a little, um..." Stieg went ahead and stayed there, looking at the boy. "Uh, I mean..."

"I need to make sure this boot fits snugly, then we can work on your horse," the master said. He was handling a leather and iron covering that they kept over a horse's hooves, to protect them from damage and splitting.

Stieg nodded and put some amber stones on a nearby table. He had found them while hunting, but they had no use for him except in exchange for these needed services. Offering them just a quick glance, the master farrier nodded. His apprentice whispered, "But what about the other three for...?"

"This man is a priority; I'll tell you later," the master replied in a low voice, although it was still enough for Stieg to hear. Brushing it off, he turned and was about to go find some other supplies when the master spoke up again. "Oh right, I heard from shaman Silvana that you would be coming by soon. She wants to speak with you, says she'll make an exception to see you quickly."

"The shaman?" Stieg muttered to himself. He hadn't thought himself worthy of their attention. Still, it would be worth his time if one had a message for him. He gave Smoke a sign to stay here and be patient, then headed out.

Taking a way around the market street, he went over to the shaman's house. There were a number of effigies of animal spirits outside of it, some decorated in garlands of nuts, others with strands of rodent skulls. It was a large round hut of stick and mud, with smoke coming from slits in the roof. From that, the shaman had to be in. He went up to ring a bell by the door, but then the three he had come across earlier came out.

There was an awkward quiet as it was clearly uncomfortable for them to run into him again so soon. His rage flickered, tempting him to challenge one of them to battle too. Instead, Stieg said, "He's still there, but he shouldn't be using that leg. Get him back to a healer when you can."

"Right," one of the women said, caution still in her voice. Stieg stepped aside and let them pass.

"Ah, I've been expecting you," the voice of an old woman came from the house. She stepped into view, her long gray hair braided with many feathers. While her gray robe was plain, she wore a multicolored belt knotted around her waist and a shawl tied with animal teeth on her shoulders. "Stieg the Wretched. Please come in."

"Very well," Stieg said, taking her invitation.

"You weren't expecting us," the remaining man with the group said. The other two women seemed just as stunned that the shaman was willing to see him.

"The stars did not speak of you," Silvana said, shutting the door once Stieg was inside. She gestured him to a bench beside a low round table. "Sit there; we have things to discuss. And don't worry about my safety. The smell of my fire will keep yours quiet. I'll be with you in a few moments."

It was surprising but he knew it was true. The fire in her clay fireplace did not look any different, but it filled the hut with a thick soothing scent, wrapped around him like a warm quilt on a cold winter night. Inside of her hut, there were more of the wooden effigies. Some were lying down as if to put the animal spirit to rest; a few were bound in ropes, perhaps to keep their spirits from being troublesome. Most interesting of all, she had a open cabinet that was full of books. They were valuable with information, but it took many months to prepare and write, even by copying another. His village only had three books; any other written information was kept on cheaper scrolls.

He turned his attention back to Silvana walked by him. She was placing a skull with covered eyes outside of her door, a sign that she didn't want others disturbing them. After that, she went to the fireplace to get some hot water from a pot that was near to the fire. She then started mixing various herbs with the water in a short mug. Stieg thought it might have been for her, to help her hear the spirits more clearly. Instead, she placed the mug in front of him.

"I want to test something about you," Silvana said, taking a seat opposite him. "Drink all of that. Even if it does not come out as I think it may, we need your mind clear for today, for discussion."

"Why do you want to talk with me?" Stieg asked, picking up the mug. There wasn't much inside; the water was a cloudy tan and weak steam touched his face when it was close. He took a sip to get used to the heat of it before drinking the rest.

"The spirits had interesting things to say about you," she said. "And the stars indicate to me that a great change is coming. Not immediately, but years from now. Will it be good, bad? That is not yet set. One of the things that I was able to discover is that you will have a strong influence in that change. I want to know what your intentions are."

He finished off the drink and set the mug aside. "I only intend to learn control over my powers. Haven't thought any further than that."

"We'll discuss that too. But first, put your hands flat on the table." When he did so, she put her hands on his. "Close your eyes and bow your head. I want you to quiet your mind and relax your body. And, listen. Listen to your heart, and listen to what lies beyond the noise of every day life. Listen." Then she stopped speaking.

What was he listening for? Maybe she didn't want him to expect something. From the feel of her hands, he knew that she wasn't moving from her seat. Stieg let go of his thoughts, like he did when hunting to react quicker. The noise of the market was faint here, easier to block out than the crackle of the fire nearby. Listening within himself, he first noticed the blood rage struggling to hold on like an ember in a fire with little fuel. It was the strongest emotion in his heart ever since he invited it in, drawing much of his attention in his struggle against it.

But, she said beyond the noise of every day life. Did that include this feeling? What did he feel beyond that? Within his chest, he felt the warmth of the weakened rage. There almost seemed to be words there. 'I own you.' Then there were words beyond that, outside of himself even fainter. 'War comes... old and new... unlike before... fate?' But as he tried to focus on them, they vanished.

"That's enough for now," she said. "If you try to force such things, they'll always escape. What did you hear?"

"Faint words of war," he replied. "I didn't hear them entirely, more like I felt them. It like something was just out of my notice, but it vanished when I turned to it."

Silvana nodded. "You were not in a deep enough trance to reach it, or to fully hear anything on a spiritual level. However, the fact that you could find their words in a low trance state like that is promising. I was monitoring you just now. Have you ever considered training to be a shaman?"

He shook his head. "Not before. And now, how could I be worthy to listen to the spirits and gods as I am?"

Chuckling, she said, "It is not always a matter of worth as you think of it. There are those who listen to the spirits to help others, such as I. But there are others who listen and abuse their knowledge. How did you decide on when to accept the power of your tribe's blood?"

"By the stars as my father taught me, but how does that connect to this?"

"Hmm." She opened a bin by her bench and began pulling out stones. "The berserker's rage is a magic that lies deeply within the blood of men in your tribe. The magic that I connect to in order to listen to the spirits and intervene on their behalf is actually quite similar, just put to another purpose. In other words, it is like the battleax at your side and the chopping ax by my woodpile. Different designs, different purposes, but in the end they come from the same idea. If you learn the way of the shaman, you may learn the way to control the berserker inside you. Could you show me how the stars looked back then?"

Stieg looked at the rune stones she had placed on the table, not sure what she wanted at first. Then he noticed symbols of the moon phases on several of the stones. He pulled the full moon stone away from the rest, then searched out signs linked to the major stars. He could recall some, and in talking with her, they figured out the positions of a dozen stars on the night he had undertaken the ritual.

Silvana looked over a moment, then tapped the full moon and the star of power. "This is a worrying alignment. Indeed, it will grant you a significantly greater power to perform a ritual on this night over any other. But then, it is like teaching a boy to hunt and him believing that he can take down a dragon on his first day in the woods alone. You have a strong will in that it has not destroyed your humanity in these three months. How much longer can you last?"

For a moment, he was reluctant to say anything. But she was trying to help him, not to mention how being here in her house was the first time the rage had been so weak. "I don't know," Stieg admitted. "I don't remember the past day because it overtook me. Whatever you have burning in that fire has been the best way to control it than I've come across yet."

"It won't last you long," she told him. "You'll become used to the scent and it won't affect you as strongly. What else has worked, even a little?"

"The cold winds often keep me alert, but the rage still burns," he said, thinking. "If anything, it's slower to come when my horse Smoke is near. I don't want to hurt him and that helps me keep my grip. But he knows to flee from me if the rage develops too far. Once he does, I almost always lose control over it."

"An animal companion does help. Do you know what is said to be the key to controlling the rage?" Her hazel eyes watched him closely, but her expression had concern for him, not about him.

Stieg nodded. "It is said that the original berserker gained control through his wisdom and love, but it's mostly love that allows us to remain men and not beasts."

"What about you?"

"It hasn't worked out for me," he said. "I had a strong bond with many in my village for years, but after my father died this past spring, I felt like it was weaker. When it became apparent that I was having trouble learning to control the rage, my cousins told me to find a woman to be with in the night and that would be enough. I tried, but once the night was over, nothing changed. I haven't felt any love strong enough to overpower the rage."

She seemed to understand, even if she was a Mirda, not a Varda. Despite the tribal differences, she was a shaman and Stieg knew he could trust her for that. "It would be enough for most of them. Indeed, simply the love of friendship and animals would be enough for most of them." She tapped the table. "But with this influencing you, it's going to take a far more powerful love to influence you. It has to be nothing less than you meeting your soul mate, the person who will give you all of her heart because you will give her all of yours. Of course, it may not happen immediately upon meeting this person. But it shouldn't take long for her love to overtake your rage."

"How am I supposed to make contact with my soul mate at this time?" Stieg asked. For a moment, a real sense of shame and anger nearly revived his rage. He caught himself by pushing his fingernails into the palm of his hand. "I only came here to take care of my horse and find supplies. If I must go to an inhabited place, I only stay as long as necessary, not speaking if I don't have to."

"Which is why you may want to study the way of the shaman," Silvana said. "Learn one way to control your rage and you should have the time to find the one who will end this trouble entirely. It was love and wisdom, wasn't it?"

"I can't study with you," he said.

She got up from the table. "I understand that. But I can send you on your way with a set of rune stones so you have another way to find the will of the spirits and gods. As well as one of my books which will teach you the ways of trances and how to interpret the stones." She went over to the bookshelf to locate it.

"One of your books?" Stieg asked, feeling shocked by her generosity. "I... I have nothing valuable enough to trade you for it, much less the rune stones."

She pulled a small one from the collection and brought it to him. "But you do. Remember?" She held the book out for him, her eyes quite serious. "The spirits are speaking of war on the horizon, a war not like any that our people have ever seen. It could destroy us. However, you will have a strong influence over the great change that is coming to our peoples. Take control of yourself and seek to make that change a good one. Make our world better; the voices of the spirits can help you greatly in this. And once you have control over your heart, perhaps you can return to me for a proper apprenticeship as a shaman. It's your choice, but I want you to be aware of what your choices could mean."

He couldn't help but feel suspicious at that. What did she really want? What did the spirits really want out of him? But the path she laid out made sense of where he'd been trying anything blindly. For that, he would trust her and take the book. "Thank you."

* * *

Weariness had seeped into Cicero's bones, but he forced himself to stay alert, standing straight and to attention. They had been riding and marching for five weeks now, wearing full armor nearly every hour of that. For the past three hours, a cold rain had followed them. That had only sharpened his attention for half of that; his exhaustion had grown over this trek. But here they were, finally home.

Lightning cracked across the sky as the two returning companies stood in the courtyard of the imperial palace. Their banners waved despite the rain and their weapons were held high in a salute to the emperor. Much as he'd always seen him, the emperor was standing on the stairs above them, just far enough away that it wasn't easy to pick out his facial features. He wore a violet and gold coat, a crown of laurels made of gold sitting just over his ears. Nearby, a servant was holding a large white umbrella over the emperor and one of his daughters, a potential heir. Well, heir in a technical sense, since she was a girl and whoever married her might not even end up as the next emperor if the Senate didn't approve.

No, this wasn't the time to lose focus. Cicero bit his tongue for that slip in discipline. It wouldn't be long until he could get back to his own home and take a well-deserved sleep. He kept his poise as the other company's caller read off the initial report of duties. "The 118th Company also checked on the securities and well-being of the trader forts along the way. The lands reviewed were stabilizing and functioning better under the guidance of our great Emperor. Thus we have returned home as ordered."

From the sounds of it, they hadn't met with any major combat. Cicero could glance out of the corner of his eye and see ten full lines. They were the lucky ones, but they still met with an approving nod from the Emperor. On the other hand, his company... he was the only one standing in the front row when he used to be placed in the third. They didn't even have enough left to make three ten-men units, but aside from him they still kept their positions. Only two were standing next to each other.

Since their caller had been killed on duty, one of their flag bearers came forward to give the report. Cicero gave a slight nod when the boy gave him a nervous glance. He'd been listening to the flag bearer practice this report the past few days, helping him out.

"The 134th Company has set out last fall in honor of the Mother Goddess Gaia and our great Emperor," the boy started with, doing his best to keep his voice level. "We set out to the lands far to the east to help with the efforts to take over the rebellious and barbaric land of Klusia with five other companies." The flag bearer went through their early missions, which were much the same as the report of the 118th company: minor skirmishes, easy battles, bolstering the security of the easternmost imperial trading power.

But then the report got to the important parts. "In the summer months," the flag bearer started, his voice wavering a moment. Cicero felt like he could sense the tension rise in his companions. "We performed a siege on the castle of Klusia's royal family along with the 140th Company. Major conflicts occurred through June and July, which we readily won. In late August, the Klusian royals led a violent attack in the early morning on our camps. They were aided by supernatural forces, killing much of the 140th Company, their commander Porcius, and several of our peers, bless their souls."

It wasn't normal to add such a blessing to a military report. But after that siege, it only seemed right. As much as he tried to keep a cool grip on his thoughts, memories of those bloody days flashed through his mind. Cicero reminded himself to stay collected here, as an example to the others.

The flag bearer was speaking a little quicker than he should have, but Cicero didn't blame him for wanting to get past this part of the report. "We were able to push them back with the efforts of the centurions Cicero and Lucian. In the following days, our commander Martin and other peers succumbed to their wounds. Field command was taken by the centurion Cicero as he led a small squad into the Klusian castle to take out the strongest of their remaining warriors as well as the Klusian royal family."

For as fit as the Klusian soldiers had been in their sneak attack, the Klusians citizens and slaves had suffered horribly from the long siege. The children had been too afraid to cry because of their own soldiers, no matter how hungry or sick they were. That had shaken Cicero's faith more than anything: the ambush, losing so many of his companions, and then seeing the conditions inside Klusia Castle.

"Their missions was successful," although it had been carried out by the only able-bodied men left in the 134th and the 140th at the time, "and Klusia Castle fell under our control. Field Commander Cicero brought the survivors of the 140th Company into the 134th Company and successfully led efforts to bolster the reputation of our empire to the rest of the country of Klusia." Because there was no way in hell that even their combined units could have won a battle against a full company of Klusian warriors who were after revenge. It was several strokes of luck and good listening that had brought that about. "Klusia will now be ruled by a government that is thus far favorable to our empire and will allow us to continue use of trade routes through their lands. The 144th Company remained behind in Klusia and requests the assistance of a fresh company to back them up to confirm regional security and push for more control over trade routes further to the east. Thus the 134th Company, along with the 140th Company members with our group, has returned home as ordered."

To his surprise, the Emperor called for Cicero to come up to him. He walked over as thunder rumbled through the sky, kneeling on the steps and placing his spear down. The Emperor stepped closer to him and touched his helmet. "Stand. How old are you?"

Since he was speaking to the Emperor, he left his spear on the ground as he stood up. The Emperor had sharp brown eyes, but it was more like an intellectual assessment than a reprimand. "I'm nineteen, my lord and emperor."

"Quite an accomplishment for any age," the Emperor said. "We thank you for turning Klusia into an ally." With that, he was dismissed. Nothing about the terrible loss of life on both sides, just a compliment on actions he'd been forced to take. It was good to win Klusia over, but the costs of doing so...


	2. A Winter Forest Burning

**Chapter 2: A Winter Forest Burning**

The stars were fading as the earliest rays of the sun appeared in the sky. Lying on his back, Stieg's eyes wandered over to an old oak tree nearby. The branches were heavy with fresh snow. Inside, the rage continued to smolder after it had burned so intensely. He wasn't even sure how he'd gotten to this meadow; the position of the moon and stars, as well as where the sun was rising, told him that it had been a full moon cycle since he'd last thought clearly like this.

And the stars, which had told him for months to be patient, seemed to suggest that he should prepare for a long trip.

Watching the sunlight overtake the sky, Stieg wondered if the stars were lying to him. The thought made him feel uneasy. When he was young, his father had taken him out of the village many nights to observe the night sky and interpret its meaning. It was a powerful insight; between that and knowledge of the imperial language (used by traders and thus important in getting fair dealings with them), his father had been a valuable man of the tribe, one whom even the chiefs would ask for advice from. The only ones who could have known more were the shamans who spoke to the spirits and the gods. With his father passing that knowledge onto Stieg, great things had been expected of him too.

It couldn't be that the stars were lying. No, he had to be misunderstanding them. He brought his right hand up and looked over it. There were new wounds from claws and teeth; the blood of animals still stuck to his skin. By his father's wishes, he had watched the stars and waited until they told him that the time was right for him to observe the rituals of blood. He had chosen a time when the star related to power was at its peak; it led to him taking the ritual under the full moon. That had been his mistake, trying vainly for power only to not gain any control to balance it. For the others who didn't consult the stars, they had to consciously call on this fire. His was constantly there, an ember waiting to overtake him. He couldn't even remember what triggered this last one and from the evidence on his hands, he must have eaten some animal raw.

Maybe the chief should have killed him. He had been out here, alone in the harshness of winter, trying to tame his own soul. Instead, he was living more like a beast. It had been three years that he'd been in exile and it wouldn't be long until he spent more days berserk than in clear thought. Maybe the gods didn't care about him anymore as a human. If so, why should he keep faith in them, and the stars?

Stieg sat up, shaking his head. It was his doing and his mistakes that had led to this. He shouldn't blame the gods for his misfortunes. Still, how did he fix this? He knew about the most common way that his tribesmen gained control over the rage, but it hadn't worked before and trying for that again was futile during his banishment.

Did he even care anymore? He watched the sun as it came up over the snowy landscape. Stieg knew that he should go find his campsite where he'd left his things, find his horse, then continue the work it took to survive the wilderness. But, did he really care to continue this? Maybe he should let go of all rational thought and accept that he could never be more than a wretched beast that others feared.

Then he recalled the spirit voices that he heard in his dreams, and his attempts to attain a deeper trance state. They spoke of war building, like clouds in the southern sky growing into a storm. It would be a war that could overwhelm many of this land's tribes. And somehow, he could influence this war. Win it, lose it, or even, if the voices were right, stop it entirely. It sounded like foolishness. If he got involved with a war, he could only imagine himself being a force of destruction within it. Unless the spirits meant for him to serve as a warning to the imperial fools to not threaten the tribes of the north. But to make sure, he should do a focused reading on that.

As the sun rose above the treetops, he found the small hut he had made as a winter shelter. Thankfully his horse Smoke was there, unharmed. The hut needed some repairs so he should focus on that first. He moved some rubble to find his gear, the first thing he picked out being a brush to take care of Smoke. Glad to see him calm again, the horse came over and wuffled in his ear. It made him momentarily glad, but didn't improve his mood any. Still, he brushed Smoke's coat before doing anything else.

Winter was especially dangerous; finding food and fixing up his campsite took up much of the day. Stieg wasn't even able to start up a fire until after the brief day was gone. Then he had to chop up more wood to keep it going through the night, until the next day when he could start stockpiling again. Because of this, he only got around to casting the stones for a reading while the meat and roots for his next few meals was cooking over the fire.

The rune stones seemed simple at first. They were small stones, smoothed to be of about the same size and shape. On one side, each of them were carved with a symbol, such as power, the sun, a moon phase, a boar's tusk, and many others. But there was more than just the surface symbolism that made a reading. One had to consider where the stone appeared, how the symbol was aligned, which stones it appeared with, the closeness of the stones, and the intent of the one who spread them. He had been cautious with his own translations at first, asking about things such as upcoming weather and the movement of animals. When this led him to avoid a fast hailstorm and take down a fully grown bear, he felt reassured that it was something he could do.

That night, he asked the stones about war. They told him of a great change in power for this land. It could bring death to many, or it could bring unexpected prosperity. And just like Silvana had suggested, he had the potential to be involved in an important way. If he asked his spirit guide, he might get a clearer picture of what was to come.

For the past three years, he had lacked one particular resource: a spirit guide to help with his learning. If one was going to be communicating with the spiritual world often, it was almost necessary to have an ally. There were dangerous spirits out there that would try to corrupt him so they had access to the world. This might have been easier to ask Silvana or another shaman about, but Stieg didn't want to go into a town or village if he didn't absolutely need to.

He read over the passages again. A spirit guide was most often a minor god or powerful spirit that had a strong connection to the shaman. Since it could be an ancestor, he wondered if his father's soul might be good to contact. But as much as he had known, his father had not been a shaman so might not be a potential guide. What else? Stieg looked over at where he'd set his helm, made from the skin and skull of a gray wolf. Perhaps a wolf spirit? It had been the animal he had killed to prove his worth as a warrior of his tribe. He had already been given wolf markings over important parts of his body for some spiritual protection.

Thinking it might help attract such a spirit, Stieg put his helm back on and turned to the chants that would bring him into a trance. Attaining a good trance state on his own was not as easy as it had been the first time. The incense in the fire and Silvana's confidence in him must have helped a great deal. Out here, he had to clear his mind and chant powerful phrases over and over again. It often took a great many repetitions. Some nights, it didn't even work at all.

He closed his eyes as he got used to the chant and tried not to think. He noted the weight and scent of the wolf helm. Trusting that the fire would keep threats away, Stieg relaxed his body along with his mind. His blood rage began to burn, trying to disrupt him. He couldn't pay attention to that. Think of the wolf, and the words.

Words... he could translate the chant into the imperial language. Most of the words were simple; the structure of the lines would need to change some. Was there any point to doing so? It might keep his mind off the rage. With that idea there, he started changing the words. He could still feel the heat of the rage, but he could also feel an icy wind within his mind. This time, he didn't try to grasp it. Instead, he let the feelings soak in while continuing the chant. They grew stronger.

Then he felt a warm pressure against his neck, with an awareness that it wasn't really happening. Like a dream, he looked and found himself in front of a burning tree in an icy forest. Part of the fire was floating just in front of him, taking the shape of a man. The fire spirit took his hand off Stieg's neck. "Stop that. You don't want this."

"How do you know that?" he asked.

The fire spirit put his hand on Stieg's chest and then pushed it inward. The rage flared as the icy forest took on a red tinge. "I am the one who answered your call, Faerge. I am always with you." The spirit pulled his hand back out, letting Stieg keep hold of his senses for the time being. "You don't need to contact any other spirits. I alone am sufficient. Follow me and I will cause the world to bend to your will. If they don't, we will burn them all."

Then icy claws squeezed into his arms. "Don't listen to that one," someone behind him said. "He is an outsider; I was born from your own heart and I know someone stronger than him."

"You liar!" Faerge said, causing the flames on the tree to roar and jump to nearby trees. "You were the one who froze this place."

The claws let him go and a dragon with icy scales slipped into sight at Stieg's side. "You would burn it to nothing but ashes," it said, curling its tail around his other side as if protecting him.

"Stop arguing," Stieg said, gripping his axe. "I'll conquer both of you and gain control over myself."

The ice dragon growled while the fire spirit laughed. "Surely you don't think that you stand any chance of doing that. You've never managed to reach the world of spirits before. Let me show you where you are wrong." He backed up, pointing a hand at Stieg and causing a burst of flames to consume him.

Up to this point, the trance had seemed like just a dream. But now Stieg was filled with a pain that was all too real, like he was being burned alive. His vision went red and the rage nearly filled his mind. Then, with a wild howl, both the rage and the burning fell away. A large gray wolf had tackled the fire spirit to the ground. Taking advantage of the opening, the ice dragon slithered towards the burning tree and tried to freeze it over. The fire spirit struggled away from the wolf, but went after the ice dragon before it lost the tree. The wolf spirit gave Stieg a hard look, then left the battle. Taking advantage of the other two being distracted, Stieg ran after the wolf.

They were running through the icy trees for what seemed like a long time. Eventually, they arrived at a pond that was not yet covered in ice. The wolf stopped there, sitting down to look at the chilled water. Stieg stopped by the wolf, not sure if he was supposed to sit there too. "Are you my...?" he started to ask.

"Do you know what this place is?" the wolf asked.

"The world of spirits?" Stieg asked, as he wasn't entirely sure. It wasn't real, sort of like a dream but not.

The wolf snorted. "You only have half the answer. Do you know what the being of fire is?"

That was easy enough. "It's the cursed blood rage that I woke up three years ago. It calls itself Faerge."

Approving of that answer, the wolf nodded. "Do you know what the being of ice is?"

After thinking about it, there was only one thing he could say. "No."

The wolf twisted its ears back. "Hmph. You're not ready." He got onto his feet, looking up at Stieg again. "Go back and speak to the icy one alone. Ask about who it knows, figure out who both of them are. Don't agree to do anything for them. They will claim the ability to change your situation, but the problem won't change. One last thing: you cannot do anything about those two spirits until you can answer my three questions. Keep that in mind." The wolf spirit then ran off into the trees and Stieg had a feeling that he wouldn't be able to follow this time.

He headed back towards the icy area to see about finding that dragon. While he did so, he looked around at the forest. This was the realm of spirits, but that was only half the answer to what this place was. What could the other half be? Stieg looked around for signs of if this was a particular forest he'd traveled through. From the plants in the undergrowth to the trees overhead, the quality of the ground and the roughness of the paths, the presence of that pond and a small cliff... it could have been any of them. It could have been none of them. As he continued trying to identify it, he began to notice signs of fires. Scorches on the trees, stunted new growth among the plants buried in snow. It only got worse as he continued back to where he'd been.

Avoiding the burning trees, he found the ice dragon flying overhead. It came down to land near him once he saw it, not troubled by the branches it was breaking its way down. Now that he had a better look at it, it was nine feet long with a torso as big as that of his horse. Its wide wings were heavily frosted, but it moved with an easy grace. "Now that I have you alone, did you really want to fight me?"

"Not yet," he admitted. "Sometime, but not now."

The dragon seemed to smirk. "You'd be wiser not to, as that would only hurt yourself. You should work with me; I've gotten that rage spirit on the retreat. He would burn everything if allowed to."

"Who are you?" he asked, feeling it was better to get to the point rather then giving the dragon a chance to tempt him.

Thankfully, the dragon seemed straightforward too. "I am the spirit born of your solitude. I have no name unless you give me one. If you give me a name, I can stop all pain from afflicting you, including that which brought me forth."

"What pain do you mean?"

"The fire spirit is usually too overbearing for you to notice all that much," the dragon said. "But he caused all that pain and will only bring you more grief. I mean..." he whistled, calling the icy wind to sharpen. "Loneliness."

It was those harsh winter nights when he had no one but Smoke to rely on for his own survival. It was in the screams of his former lover and in how the others gave way to him out of fear. The few human beings who dared stay near him were usually trying to kill him. Even earlier than that, there had been when his father had died, times when his loneliness and sorrow had been enough to nearly drive him away from his tribe. His friends had come through then, convincing him to focus on continuing his life. But when his problems escalated, they turned him out. He'd been too busy to notice before, but now these feelings threatened to overtake his mind much like the rage did.

"I can cut off all that pain," the dragon repeated. "I will freeze over your heart and make it so strong that none can hurt you. Name me and awaken the one who can give us power. You'll be the greatest warrior in the land."

For a moment, Stieg considered doing as it asked. But no, he couldn't let himself fail to something like loneliness. That was something a person with a weak heart would do. If he was going to trust any of these three spirits, he'd go with the wolf. "Who is the one you want me to awaken?"

"Name me first," it said, flipping its tail and knocking away another frozen branch.

"I want to know who I'll be working with," Stieg said.

The dragon grumbled, then braced itself as if it were to jump. "Follow these directions and you will find the place she sleeps in." It then took off into the air, flying away.

The scene shifted, placing Stieg in a snowy valley. In the center of the valley, there was a large structure made entirely of ice crystals. Some being of great power was inside. Looking up at the night sky, Stieg picked out familiar stars. It would take a couple of weeks travel to reach the area indicated by their positions.

One thing that Stieg felt sure of was that this place was important. Now to take himself out of this vision. He reminded himself of where he was and spoke the chant once again.

It took some tries, but Stieg found himself back in reality, sitting by a dwindling fire. After stirring it up and giving it some fresh wood, he stepped away to check the stars. It was as he thought. The ice palace he'd seen in his vision was to the northeast. It seemed that he would indeed be taking a long trek. In that case, he'd better make sure that he had the supplies to get there.

* * *

Even the most daring of his kin wouldn't travel far during the winters, but Stieg brought Smoke through the snows and rough lands to their destination. This area was mountainous, leaving them with difficult paths to follow. Checking with the rune stones as they encountered crossroads, he was able to make his way through the mountains with only a few days of backtracking. He practiced his ability to enter a trance a few nights, but much of the time he was too worn to do so.

During one night's trance, he encountered the fire spirit and thought of a question to ask him. "Would you have any idea why I can enter this world easier by using the imperial language?"

The fire spirit grinned. "What are they to you?"

Stieg frowned. "They're a powerful and numerous tribe, but foolish and arrogant. They believe that whatever they do is right, with no respect for the proper order of things. They'll work with any god that will help them and that will bring their ruin."

"If you destroyed them, wouldn't you be recognized as the most powerful?" Faerge asked.

"That's not what I was asking about," he said, although it was probably true. "I want to know why their language is working better than my own."

He tapped his cheek. "Perhaps it is because you have to concentrate more on the words and their meaning by using a language not your own. Or, perhaps, it is because their language is more powerful."

"I hope it's not that," Stieg said. His people had fought off the southerners before, but it was never easy. Back when he'd still been living in his village, there had been talk about uniting the various tribes to invade the southern lands first.

The fire spirit poked him, causing his rage to build a little. "They are a powerful people who rule many lands. Wherever they go, they make those they conquer speak their words. It should be no surprise then that their language is growing in power with them. If you're not careful with this, you might find yourself falling under their spell with every word you speak." Faerge laughed at him, which inspired Stieg to continue trying to trance with his own language instead.

After weeks of travel, Stieg found himself in the same spot he'd been in with the vision. Dark peaks rose around this small valley, like fortress walls protecting this palace. The ice structure was elaborate, with two towers spiraling overhead. It was far too quiet, without even the wind. At his side, Smoke was stamping his hooves nervously. No other animals were around, not even a bird flying overhead. It was an oppressive atmosphere.

"Stay here," Stieg said to Smoke. "I'll try not to be long." He entered the ice palace, hoping that the sunlight through the ice would be enough to see by.

There was a short passage that led into a large room. Here he found the one that the dragon wanted him to awaken; he knew it from an icy feeling in his heart. She lay chained down on a large rectangular stone. While frost covered the large chains, it was not enough to break them. Coming closer, he saw that her body was made entirely of ice. Her hair was fine strands of it and he could see right through her. On the chains, he noted a series of runes that seemed to indicate confinement and magical seals.

Near the chained woman, there was a stone with an inscription in his tribe's language. 'Here lies the demon Jutra, bringer of the long winter of conflict. She freezes the hearts and bodies of her followers, turning them to remorseless ghouls that seek to make others like them. We have slain her but this body remains. Leave the seals upon her until the body disappears, removing all of her power from this world. Leave this place before she attempts to speak lies to you. -the tribe of the great god Varda'

It was many generations ago, but the story was still told to everyone in his tribe. Over several years, Jutra spread many lies that made all of the northern tribes hate each other. She reveled in the pointless conflicts she created, using the blood of warriors to delay the coming of spring and feed the ones who followed her. Her ghouls were people who had their emotions torn out of their souls, or most likely frozen to the point of not existing. Thus, they did not care about anything other than obeying Jutra.

Around that time, the Varda people had claimed control over their curse. Although they did not mind the fighting, they did not like the ever increasing grip winter had over the land. His ancestors thus destroyed Jutra's followers, then called on the power of their god Varda to defeat Jutra. She had been too powerful at the time to completely destroy, so she was entombed her instead. However, they hadn't made this ice palace to his knowledge. Jutra's magic must have influenced its appearance.

Remorseless ghouls... "If this is what you mean by ending my pain, I don't want it," Stieg said, then left the palace without a second thought. Smoke came right up to him for reassurance, so Stieg got into the saddle and let the horse run from this place. Why had he seen this place as important? It must have been a lie of the dragon. He wanted to never return here again.

* * *

Once they got out of the mountains, Stieg let Smoke roam a grassy field freely for a day while he entered another trance to find the wolf spirit. It took some time, but he made his way back to the pond and sat down at the water's edge. He seemed to be alone, and then the wolf was sitting by him. "What is this place?" the wolf asked.

This time, he had an answer he was confident in. "My heart and mind, as the spirits would see it. The other two spirits have done damage to this place."

The wolf nodded in approval. "What is the being of fire?"

"The spirit that I called on to activate my blood rage. It was too powerful for me to control through normal means." Accepting it like that gave him some leverage over Faerge, but he knew he'd lose that once he used his power consciously.

"What is the being of ice?"

"I'm not as certain of it, but I believe it was created though a wish to be free of my suffering and loneliness. A spirit named Jutra may have empowered it in an attempt to be released into the world again."

"That is correct," the wolf said. "You wished to become powerful; a minor demon was able to enter your soul with your permission and ignorance. This has weakened your soul's natural defenses and other demons can access it without your knowledge, such as Jutra." The wolf gave him a strict look. "It is going to take a lot to repair the damage already done. I can do what I can to prevent others from trying to claim your soul, but Jutra and Faerge will require a lot of effort on your part to evict."

"Who are you?" Stieg asked.

"You should have asked before," the wolf said.

"You wouldn't let me," he pointed out.

The wolf spirit ignored that. "I serve the god Varda. That is all you may know at this time."

That made sense. "Good. Thank you."

"Do you know what you should do now?" the wolf asked.

"Not entirely," Stieg admitted. "I've been told that I could counter the power of the rage spirit through the love of my soul mate, if I can find her. But I could also counter him by training myself as a shaman and learning to control power in that way."

The wolf nodded. "You have two goals then. They might be found on the same path. Thus, you need to find the beginning of that path. Would you like me to show you an image of that?"

"Yes." If it got him out of this banishment, he'd go anywhere.

With a howl, the wolf changed the scene. Stieg found himself in another mountainous valley, but this time it was green and dotted with early spring flowers. A stream made its way to a larger river; a statue of a flying eagle stood by its banks. This was in the southern part of Hoarfrost Pass, the largest and safest way through the mountain range that blocked off the northern tribes from the southern empire. Their stone road followed the river, but it was the only imperial structure there. However, this image of of a side path, not the main road.

A man on a black horse followed the road north. The horse wasn't black like Smoke's mottled dark gray, but pure black with a powerful build. As they approached, it became apparent that the man was one of the soldiers of the empire, oddly alone as he traveled. Before Stieg could get a better look at the man, the vision of Hoarfrost Pass dissolved and he was back by the cold water with the wolf spirit.

"That's where the path to my soul mate starts?" Stieg asked, puzzled at that. It didn't make much sense.

"I don't know what will happen beyond that moment," the wolf spirit said. "But that is the beginning of one path of destiny. You can take it. Or you can wait for another path to open up. What do the flowers tell you?"

"Spring comes sooner to that pass than areas near it. He'll be coming in a month." He considered where he was compared to Hoarfrost Pass. "It'll take me three weeks to get there from here. I don't have long to consider it."

"Your heart is still your own. Do what it tells you." The wolf spirit then left, done with this meeting.

Even after he came out of his trance, Stieg wondered what that man from the empire could mean for his destiny. He certainly didn't want anything to do with those fools. But maybe the man didn't really mean anything. Maybe he was just the start of Stieg's new path. The only way to find out would be to go there. If he decided not to go, it would always be a mystery of what could have been.

It seemed to be better to go to Hoarfrost Pass then.


	3. A False Road

**Chapter 3: A False Road**

_Will you come with me?_

_Life doesn't last forever._

_Come enjoy the moment with me._

_What does all else matter?_

_Come with me to delight._

_Forget it all and come close to me._

_Come find a love to share._

What did it matter? Cicero found himself lying on a couch, looking up at the ceiling and listening to the singers. But his thoughts didn't match those behind the song. Life didn't last forever. But then, neither did these moments of pleasure. They were a temporary escape, a respite that came after he'd been away on a military campaign for nearly two years. A way to forget the things he had dealt with: kill or be killed, lead a violent disruption to the lives of other people, battle against desperate souls willing to do anything to stop them. Foreigners, invaders... here, he was home and he could let his guard down some.

The escape didn't last long. Now his head throbbed from too much wine and his thoughts were drifting back to what he'd tried to escape from. He could remember bits of this decadent sensual party, in a hazy way. He couldn't remember the faces of those he'd encountered. In the end, they didn't matter. If he ran into them again, he wouldn't remember. This wasn't love. This was an escape and nothing more.

Why had he come here? That was easier to think on once he shifted his attention away from the party still going on around him. After the usual presentation and report at the palace parade grounds, the Emperor had given some envelopes to General Valens. Cicero was in charge of a ten-man unit within the centurion unit that General Valens led; he and the other captains had been called to a meeting with the general later that evening. They had just returned, but already the central generals were planning to send them off on another campaign.

Valens had kept Cicero after the other captains had left, though. He was an older man, still a good fighter but getting to the point where it was tougher on his body. According to the letters from the emperor, Valens was under consideration for promotion to one of the central generals that stayed in the capitol and made plans for the entire army. Valens wanted Cicero to replace him. However, in order to actually get that position, Cicero would need to make connections with people in the palace and in the Senate. For that reason, Valens gave him an invitation he'd been given to this party, along with some other events. He was supposed to be meeting people.

Well it wasn't doing much good if he ended up like this, even if everyone else enjoyed it. Cicero sat up and quickly found his sandals sitting by the couch, along with a third that didn't have a mate anywhere in sight. He was missing a belt, though. When had that happened? Was it that guy, or the girl... or someone else? Ignoring a couple nearby who were being rather noisy, he got up and looked around until he found a leather cord belt. He wasn't sure if it was his, but it was close enough. He tied it around his waist and decided there wasn't anything else he wanted to stay for.

On his way out, he heard his name being called. "Cicero, there you are! Come over here." It was Valens, waving him to a different room. His hair was gray and his skin was weathered rough. In his hand, he had a plate of snack foods that were in various rooms for the guests. Despite his age, he seemed to be enjoying the party fully.

"What is it, sir?" Cicero asked, going over to him. Even if he didn't want to be here much longer, he'd make time for the general.

Valens laughed at him as he tugged Cicero into the (thankfully quieter) room. "Now now, you should loosen up here. You're a young unmarried man; enjoy your freedom while you can." He laughed drunkenly at his joke, then turned to the one other person in the room. "Here he is, the one I'm thinking of." Cicero was thus introduced to one of the Senators, a man nearly as old as Valens but from a wealthy and powerful family.

Somehow keeping his wits even this late into the party, the Senator stood by a table which displayed a map of the known world. Smaller scale maps were tucked into drawers underneath. After exchanging some small talk, he turned back to the maps. "Cicero, I've been quite impressed with your efforts once I started looking. Like bringing Idrel into our empire willingly, with such little fighting."

Military discussion at this time? Cicero nodded. "Yes, they, they would have caused us a few years worth of wars and sieges to subjugate, so I offered use of my men to take care of somethings they couldn't handle. Sort of," he snapped his fingers. "Mercenary, but not. Better than that because we fight for the glory of Mother Gaia."

"I approve," the Senator said, clapping him on the back.

"I wasn't sure if it was the right path, but I decided to go with it after what you pulled off in Liyra," Valens said.

The Senator shrugged. "There were a few grumbles from the hotheads who want pure conquest to prove our power. But you both seem to understand, that's not going to work in our favor in the long run. Resentment builds towards the conquerors, regions become unstable, towns refuse to pay taxes. On the other hand, doing as you do, proving our ability, power, and resources through benevolent and clever means, that builds respect and admiration. The people will become interested in us, want to please us in exchange for what we have. Did you see the olives I have available? Here." He picked up a pale olive and passed it to Cicero.

After smelling the spices in it, he nodded. "Some are local, but this one seems like what they had in Idrel."

"That's because they are from Idrel!" The Senator seemed excited. "We can offer the riches of the world in our households, but you know what's even better about it? It's simple. Things that are commonplace and ordinary in one place become exotic and desired in another, simply by transporting them there for trade. Our olives are standard here, but special in Idrel. The other way around works too; people keep commenting on these spicy little treats. But that's just one example."

"Olives?" Cicero asked, his mind still a little slow.

"That's not what I really wanted to talk to you about, olives I mean," he said, shifting his hand to another map location. "I want to talk about the mission you'll have this coming summer."

"Are we supposed to be discussing that with others yet?" he asked Valens, enough of his wits alert to not revealing such plans.

"Not to most people, but he isn't most people," the general said.

The Senator nodded. "Let me talk. I know these things because I wrote up the proposals. Here." He pointed to a location must closer to the capitol than Idrel: the lands north of the mountains at the empire's borders. While they had taken ships to and from Idrel to cut weeks of travel, the northern lands were the reverse, much further to reach by sea than by land. "Did you see the necklaces the palace dancers were wearing?" the Senator asked.

After a moment, he recalled seeing the brightly colored beaded necklaces, bearing pendants of strangely beautiful stones. He nodded, his mind soon drifting past the necklaces. But the Senator's voice brought him back to the moment.

"Amazing craftsmanship, with clay, gemstones, bones, wood, metal. And such color and polished shine, they'd be desired anywhere in the world, but here in the north where they're made, most of them are seen as ordinary for everyday uses. I've invested a lot in acquiring the pieces I have given out, but I would love to have access to a better supply to spread them through the world." The Senator smiled, a mix of glee and greed. "And I know how to do it! They had a good supply of salt through their market, as well as a few other herbs, but overall they have very little to flavor their food. I'd just need to get my traders to bring more spices like peppercorns and dried ginger up there in exchange for their jewelry. Their furs aren't that bad either, even if out of fashion at the moment."

"Sounds like it would work out," Cicero said, although he didn't know all that much about the trade business.

The Senator turned from the map and gripped his shoulder. "It would, but then there's a problem and you seem to be my solution. The barbarian tribes to the north are hostile to most of my traders. Some time ago, there was an effort by the army and engineers to take lands past the mountain range. For three years, they built roads and bridges up through Hoarfrost Pass and beyond, setting up a simple fort a few miles north of the pass. However, the barbarians didn't like it. They slaughtered our settlers and soldiers."

Slaughtered... memories flashed through his mind. Thankfully, the Senator's grip was enough to keep Cicero's mind in the present. "I've heard that they're extremely fierce warriors, but very uncivilized."

He nodded and looked back at the map. "Exactly. Some of the generals and other senators want to lead another invasion to the north, saying that it is an irritation that we have so many lands far to the east, west, and south, but not so close to the north. But because they are so close, they are a threat to our capitol. I think it wisest to not provoke the barbarians. Instead, I want to find ways to get them to ask to be part of our empire instead of forcing them."

"Like Idrel," Cicero said.

"And Liyra, and Klusia." Although Cicero winced at the last, Valens and the Senator happened to be looking away at that moment. "That's why I find it a wonderful gift that they're going to send your company up to the northlands. You'll be guarding the capitol until then, but that's your chance to do some research." He began emphasizing his words by looking at him and tapping the table. "Find a way to work your magic and get the northerners to be more open to my traders. You'll be rewarded very well if you succeed."

"It's not really magic," he said. At the moment, he couldn't quite find the words to explain. Not entirely sober, it seemed.

The Senator let him go. "Whatever it is, do your thing. Work with me and we can stop the other generals from doing the idiotic thing of challenging the northern tribes to war." He then smiled charmingly. "Good luck to you, Cicero. For now, the party's far from over, so why don't you go find some more fun?"

"I hear the princesses are hanging around too," Valens said, giving him a wink. "Could be the chance of a lifetime, so don't let it get away."

Instead, Cicero made sure he had his things and left the imperial palace. He felt more like going back to sleep then continuing on with that party. There had been several enjoyable moments. But as he walked along the marble halls, those moments slipped away and the only thing he'd remember of the party would be the Senator's request. Find a way to bring the northerners into an alliance...

The cool winds of late winter brushed against his skin. It never really got cold here in the capitol, but having just returned from the partly desert country of Idrel, Cicero was still adjusting. Looking up at the night sky, he shuddered briefly and walked along the path lit by lanterns. It was five and a half years since the Klusia siege, but the nights still haunted him. One night in particular was hard to forget, unlike this party.

As he came to the gates, he found a few horse carriages waiting. They were there for use by palace staff and the Emperor's family, but one of the drivers called him over. "We've been told to help any of the guests back home if they leave before dawn," he said, in a tone that said he was expecting to deal with drunks and was being as clear as possible. "Want a ride?"

He was still feeling worn out and hungover. "Sure, thanks," he said, climbing up into the wagon.

The driver looked at him as if he was just now getting a decent look at him. "Hey, you're Captain Cicero, right? From the 134th Company."

Hearing that number made him flinch. "It's... it doesn't exist anymore. But yes, that's who I am."

"Thought so. They finished the victory arch for the war in Klusia not that long ago; it's real impressive. I can swing by to show you it if it's on your way home."

A victory arch. He'd tried to ignore it when he first heard about it, but Valens had practically forced him to go to the sculptors' studio so they could sketch him for the arch. "If it's not too far out of the way," Cicero said, hoping that it was.

Unfortunately, the driver felt like it wasn't and so took him out to the arch. It was in a line of such arches along one of the main avenues. There were a few lamps near the arch so the carvings could be seen, sharpening the shadows of the reliefs. On one side was an arch dedicated to a war won twenty years ago, but on the other side they had another new one going up. For Liyra? Cicero half-hoped it wasn't that as he left the carriage briefly to look closer at the arch.

The carvings on the arch told of the people of Klusia and the tyrannical cruel royal family that led them. For generations, they had sacrificed prisoners, slaves, even children to the god they worshiped. Was that true? Cicero wasn't sure of the extent of it; it may have just been prisoners who were condemned to die anyhow. But it made a sensational story and that's what got recorded. Klusia had made a habit of capturing, blackmailing, or otherwise hindering traders and explorers from the empire. The empire sent troops to deal with it and the royal family holed up in their castle, not caring what happened to the people left outside its walls.

And then... Cicero clenched his fist as he noticed that they had indeed depicted what happened during the siege. Monsters raiding the sleeping camps. The king, queen, and prince using forbidden arts of magic in battle. And then, the half-asleep dark god who was locked in the castle basement, lashing out as the Klusian priests and the Imperial army priest sealed him into sleep fully. The god who had reached int the minds of the Impeial soldiers and tried to kill through them; Cicero had to kill a peer while his mind raced with thoughts not his own.

Looking away from that area, he saw the panel that showed their return home, greatly reduced in numbers. There was himself, the carving done quite well. Then... those three had died during the Liyra campaign, most likely distracted by their memories. There was one who had dropped out of the army on returning home, but killed himself to stop the nightmares. There was one who had been kicked out, sent to a sanitarium after he tried to kill his wife and children without realizing who they were. Much of the others had similar stories. Even the young flag-bearer; he'd gotten word of the youth's suicide within a few hours of returning from Idrel.

Then, there was Cicero, still alive. Somehow. Alone now, but they showed him as a brave and faithful warrior returning home.

He returned to the carriage, not even noticing the chill in the air. "Take me home," he said.

The driver nodded. "Sure thing. Isn't it quite a sight? They did a great job on this one, and to see yourself, well I imagine..."

"Just take me home," Cicero snapped. Hearing himself, he took a deep breath to try calming down. "Please."

"All right, sir," the driver said, intimidated into silence for the rest of the trip.

When he got back home, he found the knife he kept in his bedroom and ran through his practice drills until he dropped onto his bed in exhaustion. Sometimes that was the best way to banish those thoughts. At least for one night. The next, they would return.

* * *

As usual, Cicero's line was at the practice field this afternoon. Other centurion groups often used this place, but if they were stationed in the capitol, he and the nine men who followed him could be counted on being here every day. He made sure of it. "Dulio, you're still not keeping alert to your surroundings," he rebuked one of them after smacking him in the shoulder with his spearhead.

"Sorry captain," he said, pushing on his helmet.

Giving a signal to Dulio's sparring partner, Cicero gave the helmet another push. It slid without much resistance. "You need your helmet refit. Did you use the army's smithy to get it fixed?"

He tried to avoid answering, but Cicero kept a cold gaze at him until he admitted, "No, sir."

"That'd be why you're having problems now. Get it to them tomorrow at latest." He then felt a tap at his mind, causing him to step back and look up.

Probably the only good thing that came out of his experience in Klusia was his shade eagle. They were both revered and feared in those lands, known to hold great natural magic, to be quite intelligent, and to keep an intense devotion to a single master. Cicero wasn't even entirely sure how he'd gotten Nadja's notice. She had come to him during the Klusia Castle siege, following him (and only him) on patrols and skirmishes. He had eventually found a Klusia soldier willing to teach him about shade eagles. Including the fact that once Nadja had settled on him as her master, there was no way Cicero would be able to shake her. Her large black wings were unmistakable as she circled overhead on the cool spring breeze. Taking another step back, he put his fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly.

Nadja descended quickly, landing on his outstretched arm. Her grip was tight, but she never dug her claws into his skin. "Nadja saw somebody." Putting his free hand to Nadja's head, he focused on her eyes. An image flashed through his mind, a view of the city from her aerial perspective. There was a messenger hurrying through the streets, coming here with a message for him.

One of his men, new to the unit, stared at the pure black eagle for a moment. "Wait, that's the strange bird we see over the city sometimes? How'd you tame a monster like that?"

Taking offense at that, Nadja turned her head and glared at him, opening her beak a little but not making a sound. "She's mine, but I didn't tame her," Cicero said. "There's a messenger who wants to come in here; go get the gate."

"How..?" then there was a sharp ringing in the air as the messenger announced his presence. Cicero raised his eyebrows, silently asking the new soldier why he wasn't following orders. He took the hint and went to let the messenger into the yard.

The messenger had a few notes to bring, but the most prominent one was one of two for Cicero. He dismissed Nadja to continue her watch over the practice yard while he opened up the notes. Unusually, the one was written on peach-colored paper with a faint scent like it had come from a woman's room. Which it had. "It's from Princess Calanthia," he said as the others in his group paused in curiosity.

Someone whistled. "You've been getting popular these days, Captain," he said, getting some laughs.

Cicero shrugged. To be honest, he wasn't sure why this note had come. Maybe it had been that party at the palace a few days ago. Had Calanthia been one of them? If so, she must have been dressed differently than he expected, since he didn't recall her. "She'll be coming here," he said, immediately silencing them, "within an hour's time, probably less. She wants to practice with us."

"Seriously?"

He nodded. What he didn't mention was that she also wanted to spend some time with him afterwards. Something about a poetry reading and dinner, which he could hardly believe. Was she serious, or mocking him somehow? As far as he knew, he'd only been around her twice. "It's one of the princesses, so may as well humor her. We don't want to hurt her, but take it seriously so that she knows we won't appreciate a joke."

"Well you wouldn't," Dulio said.

He ignored that while he turned his attention to the other note. "In other news, we have confirmation of orders from General Valens. For the current month, we will continue with defense of the capitol. But later, we will be heading to the northlands past Hoarfrost Pass on a scouting mission. Also to investigate," he paused, "the destruction of an imperial fort in the area, which occurred fifteen years ago. The rest of the unit will be setting up a military post south of the pass, so it's just the ten of us going further northward."

"Well it's nice that we're not going as far," one of the others said. "But up in the northlands? There's nothing but useless wilderness and angry savages up there. Worse than Idrel was."

"It's because it's closer but no headway has been made there," another said.

"Why are we looking into something that happened fifteen years ago?"

"The army's kept out of that area since then," Cicero said. "I expect it's an excuse."

Shortly after he got done discussing the plans with his men, the youngest princess arrived, accompanied by a couple of female bodyguards. To her credit, Calanthia brought her own weapon, a white spear, as well as her own sensible armor. There were some ladies who thought they could pass themselves off as graceful warriors, but they often wore armor that didn't allow freedom of movement and wielded their weapons for show. The princess was the real deal, as she quickly proved by sparring with some of the other centurions and defeating them on her own merit. Who had been training her like that and why?

Nadja was unusually interested, keeping close to the field. Since she was doing that, Cicero took the opportunity to practice with his eagle for a short time, signaling her to fetch and place items around the field. When the eagle shook her wings in a show of restlessness, Cicero pointed her to a practice dummy no one was using. She tore the thing in half, but he meant to replace it anyhow.

When she came back to his arm, Cicero stroked Nadja's head. "What has you agitated so?" he whispered.

"Aaaaaa," she cawed quietly, sending him an image. It was Calanthia she didn't like. Or more specifically, a diamond-shaped charm the princess was wearing on a small belt over her armor. Nadja gave off the impression of having her feathers stroked the wrong way in response to that charm. "Stupid princess."

Unfortunately, Cicero didn't know enough about magic to know any more than his eagle did about the charm. "It's not something I can easily ask about, but I'll keep it in mind," he said.

"That bird seems to fit you well," Calanthia said, leaving her previously defeated partner to come closer to him.

Nadja gave a hostile cry in response, shifting her wings. Cicero put his hand in front of her head, knowing that he could only dare do that because he was her master. "Do you know what kind of bird this is?" he asked.

"An eagle," she said, a little uncertain.

"A Klusian shade eagle, also known as the devil's spy in some places," Cicero said, dismissing her to fly somewhere else. She went to a nearby post and perched on top, observing the princess intensely. "Want to keep that statement?"

"Oh, well, never mind it then," she said, putting a hand over her face to try hiding her embarrassment. "Are you going to spar with me?"

"If you want," Cicero said, going to where he had dropped his practice spear. Others in the practice yard stopped their matches, interested to see how this would turn out. There were even a few people who had gathered at the fence at the edge of the yard, watching this rare sight of a princess being out of the palace.

"As long as you know to be serious," Calanthia said, gripping her spear in readiness. When seen from afar in elaborate palace dress, she had always seemed like some precious treasure, kept distant for safety. But here in the army's practice field, her skin showing sweat and her long rich brown hair kept in a high ponytail, she was quite stunning. Perhaps even more so because she was doing well.

"I wouldn't be anything less," Cicero said, noting that her starting posture was aggressive. He took a defensive stance in response. From above, Nadja was acting a bit murderous with the look in her eyes. "Let's begin."

As he thought, she took initiative, making a quick step to his left and trying to thrust her spear at his armor. With a flimsier armor, that kind of attack might render it useless. It would be a good tactic for ending a battle quickly, but Cicero was ready to step away and smack her spear in an attempt to disrupt her. Calanthia recovered quicker than most opponents. With as skilled and thoughtful as she was being in picking her moves, there were a couple of minutes where they circled each other in tactical moves and tactical countermoves.

As it became apparent to her that he could counter anything she could do in being aggressive, the princess took two steps around while she shifted her stance to something unusual, a bit defensive but with a gait that was... ah, then that would be part of how she was winning so readily against the centurions, going with small distractions. Unluckily for her, Cicero kept his mind cool and sharp during battle. He moved into an offensive stance, starting to thrust towards her left side. She couldn't move quite as quickly while trying to be distracting, so once she began to block him, he quickly flipped his spear around and struck her on her right side with the other end of his spear. She tried to switch, giving him the opportunity to switch back and finish the original move. If his spear had been his normal one, the head would have cut into the top of her hip.

Instead, it got caught. Cicero pulled his spear back but snapped the thin belt she'd been wearing off her, sending it and a sparkling charm to the ground. Against the dirt, the charm seemed like an icy white diamond. He didn't get a good look at it, as Nadja pounced on it immediately, diving to snatch it up in her claws.

"Nadja!" Cicero called, backing up while the eagle flew between them.

"Huh?" Calanthia asked, stepping back in confusion at the disruption. She put her hand to her hip where he'd struck and found her belt missing. "Hey, where'd it go?"

Nadja was flying off, so he quickly whistled her back. She returned to his arm, now holding the charm and belt in her beak. Although reluctant to give it up, she let Cicero take it. The ceramic charm had been snapped in two, probably worthless in that state. "Sorry; she normally doesn't do things like that. Here."

"Aaah, the charm!" Calanthia squealed, taking it in a panic and seeing if the halves would fit together. "I got that from a friend. I could get another but... must not have been as strong as they thought if it broke that easily."

One of the boys who helped out the unit rang the bell. "Hey, we have to clear the field for the other unit soon!"

"Thanks for keeping the time," Cicero called back. "All right men, take up your duties or take your time off, whichever you're scheduled for. Be back here tomorrow."

"Yes sir!" most of them called back, heading off to what they needed to do. But a few lingered to see what would go on with their captain and the princess.

"We'll have to cut this off now, unless you wanted to practice with the other group as well," he told her. "There's a bathhouse just down street if you wish to freshen up. They've got good security."

She was still looking over the belt and charm, but then handed it off to one of her bodyguards. "That would be good," she said. Then she smiled at him. "Well, you gave me a good challenge, so thanks. Are you up to going along with the rest of my plans for today?"

"Sure," he said. He spent a minute making sure the boys were taking care of the equipment, then left the practice field to show Calanthia where the bathhouse was. And since he would be out with her for the evening, he went ahead and washed up as well.

It was no surprise to him that a few of his men followed him in to tease him. "Cicero, what'd you do to make the gods so happy with you?" one of them joked, tossing some water at him. "Getting to be close to the princess."

"I have no idea," he said, focusing on cleaning.

"Aw come on, you have to know something," another said.

Glancing at the concrete walls of the bathhouse, he knew one had to be careful about what one said in here even if they were good about keeping the male and female halves separate. Sound carried well in this place, depending on how many were in the bath at a time. "I don't."

"Hey, why're you taking this so coldly?" His peer came closer, waving a hand near Cicero's face to make sure he had his attention. "You might've stumbled on the biggest chance in your life today. Here." He passed over a lump of soap with a distinctive scent.

"What's this for?" he asked, pausing to look at them.

"Rub it over your skin and it'll increase your attractiveness to women," he said. "You deserve this, man. Make her father happy and you could be set for life, not having to work yourself half to death like you do."

"I serve the empire because I want to," Cicero said, getting him some more friendly ribbing from the other guys. But maybe they were right. How often did someone like him get a chance like this? He used the scented soap, then actually used the mirror in the dressing hall to make sure his hair and civilian attire were in good shape.

Once he was done, he left the bathhouse and waited there for the princess. She took her time, though, enough that a boys in his unit was able to run up and pass him a small cluster of flowers. Obviously one of the other guys had got him to hurry over to a flower seller when Cicero hadn't asked for it. He gave the boy a small coin for a tip, then looked over it. There was a pale yellow and white lily surrounded by some fern leaves and small white flowers, all tied up with a yellow ribbon. Not quite what he thought was romantic, but they hadn't known each other all that long so it was probably safe.

Calanthia finally came out of the bathhouse and she almost seemed like a different woman. Now she wore a long white and gold dress, light and downplaying her musculature. Her hair was still up in a ponytail, but now it was styled with an ivory comb. While she managed to have a thin cord belt to replace the one he'd snapped, it didn't have the diamond charm on it. "Sorry for the wait," she said. "I wouldn't want to show up where we're going still up for battle."

"It's fine," Cicero said. Knowing that they might want to be careful, he offered the flowers within reach of one of the bodyguards. "Would you accept a small gift since I didn't have much time to prepare?"

Delighted, the princess nearly took it from his hand, but the bodyguard slipped in to take it, examine the flowers, then hand it to Calanthia. She didn't display more than a moment's irritation at that. "Aw, how sweet. How'd you even get one in time that matches me so well?" She put it near her sleeve and admired how it looked.

"I seem to have gotten extremely lucky today," he said, with some honesty.

"Seems so," she said. "Oh, we'd best get moving. Don't want to be late to the reading." She headed down the street with a skip to her step, wanting them to keep a quick pace.

Several minutes later, they arrived at a fountain to find quite a gathering for the poetry reading already there. There were a few benches that had been dragged out and it didn't long for someone to let him and Calanthia sit down on one. It was mostly young women there, Cicero noticed. Although once the poets came up to the front of the group, discussing their order one more time, it was fairly obvious why. Aeolus Livius was among them.

Aeolus had a voice that people said was a gift from the gods, along with long curls of bronze hair, a tall slim body, and enough money to dress himself in brightly colored clothes and rich jewelry. However, he was a writer and reciter of sultry erotic poems, which Cicero felt were a cheap way to attract a following without much real skill. At least Aeolus wouldn't be the only poet at this recital. Some there followed his style, but there were enough that didn't to keep this from being a waste of his time.

One poem in particular got his attention. He didn't recall what the young man had been introduced as, but he recited on a theme of love on a deeper level than the others there. "My one and only love is the guardian of my heart," he said. "One and only, one alone allowed so deep. I hold her close, she holds me, we keep a secret between, for I hide her weakness, for she hides my weakness, so that we both stand together to the world, strong and united, clasping hands down to the depths of our souls. I need not fear the darkness anywhere, in the night or in my mind, for our love is the light of my world and her every smile brightens my life."

Although he kept a tight control over his emotions, Cicero felt a small whisper of them, a wish that he had someone to love like that. But who could he trust like that? Maybe it did take time for a love to grow that deep. He could try... but then he noticed Calanthia wasn't paying attention to the poem he liked, preferring to whisper with one of her bodyguards. Her attention was reserved for Aeolus' more raunchy works.

It didn't surprise him when Aeolus came right up to the princess after the poetry reading came to an end. "Ah, the lovely Calanthia, it's a surprise to see you here today." He took her hand and kissed it. "I thought your father didn't want me around you anymore."

She laughed at that. "I'll find ways, don't worry. We'll figure something out."

Well that explained today, Cicero thought. Feeling that this could only get awkward, he said, "Then are you two going to dinner?"

"Are we?" Aeolus asked, either unaware of things or really good at pretending.

"I'd love to," Calanthia said with a smile. "Thanks so much, Cicero; I owe you one."

"Don't worry about it," he said, decided to take the moment to leave. He couldn't even get angry about Aeolus going to dinner with her instead. Or sad, or feeling like he got cheated. It really was nothing, as he hardly knew her and his main reason for going along with it was an attempt to better his social standing. Why did he bother? He usually wasn't even in the capitol for most of the year. Finding love would be more trouble than it was worth.

Or was it? The small whisper persisted. If he could find someone to love and trust fully, it could give him some relief from the waking nightmares that haunted him. A light bright enough to counter the darkness left by war. More than wanting it, he needed it.

No, it wasn't practical. More logical parts of his mind kept up their defenses. If he let anyone know of those nightmares, they'd think less of him. A coward ashamed of what others saw as a hero's victory, someone who couldn't even control his thoughts when there was nothing distracting to do. He had to keep a brave face, a strong lock on his heart, so that others continued to respect him. He was responsible for the lives of others in hostile territories. He was aiming to turn potential enemies into good allies, and for that he needed to keep his personal feelings and issues shut away. Letting even one person see the dark reaches of his soul risked such secrets being revealed to all.

But the darkness made his heart feel empty and if he let it remain, it would eat at him until his heart was hollow and the darkness crushed him like all of the others.

Cicero rubbed his forehead. It was going to be one of those bad days now, wasn't it? For a few minutes, he considered going to join his men in patrolling the city. That would definitely occupy his mind better than these thoughts. But they already expected him to have the rest of the day off due to Calanthia's invitation and if this mental struggle kept up, he'd do badly and feel even worse tomorrow. What did he do instead?

Noticing that he was close to several of the temples, he turned down the street that led that way. This area of the city had always impressed him, even after seeing other places in the world. In order to impress the gods, his people had built tremendous places of worship. Each was designed to please the god it served; no expense had been too much. Sturdy pillars held stone roofs far overhead, crafted so well that there was no worry of them falling down. Golden statues of gods, spirits, and heroes filled these spaces, telling of the glory of the divine. In this area of the city, it seemed that every god in the world was honored in some way.

What did his problems mean to the powers represented here? Probably nothing. He was just a mortal man, one minor war hero in an empire that boasted of thousands of heroes and great men. He might have a chance at advancing in society, or he might not. Whatever he did, the gods probably wouldn't give him more than a single thought, if at all.

Still, if there was a chance that one of them could intervene, at least to give him some guidance on what he should be doing, he could definitely use it. Cicero entered a temple dedicated to Gaia because in all of his military servings, he swore allegiance to Her and the Empire; he spent some time there in prayer. It would be good to remind himself of the principles She taught mankind to hold dear. Sometimes it seemed like few in this city dedicated to Her remembered that.

And one of those principles was the honoring of deep and honest love, more lasting than moments of pleasure.


	4. A Missing Princess

**Chapter 4: A Missing Princess**

As much as she liked being free in the city, Calanthia loved returning home to the beautiful and clean imperial palace. Especially when the people there had no idea what she'd really been up to that day. Her father expected her to be a certain way, but what did it matter? It wasn't like he was expecting her to be anything more than a princess, eventually to become a wife to someone as a favor. She wanted to have lots of options, and to have fun while figuring things out. Besides, one of her older sisters could handle becoming the proper wife of the next Emperor. She was going to be herself... no, she was going to be herself as a great woman!

She found her family as she expected to find them, in a parlor at their usual evening discussions of palace gossip, imperial issues her father didn't mind talking about, his strict teachings about Gaia, and the approaching wedding of her eldest sister to one of the army generals. Also as expected, the first question from her mother was, "How was your date with that young Captain today?"

"It was great," she said, trying to seem into him. "We had a good sparring match and he even got me some nice flowers." Although she had tried to give the flowers to Aeolus (he didn't need to know that they'd been a gift to her in the first place), but he just gave them right back. And the date hadn't been really great until the dinner with Aeolus. The poet was such an amazingly romantic man and she had no idea why her parents seemed to hate him. At least she had the flowers as proof of her story.

"It'd be nice if you could leave the fighting to him," her mother said.

Calanthia bit her tongue, not wanting to make a scene of that today. Fighting had been a part of her first explorations outside of the palace, back when she'd been just a child. When she persisted with seeking lessons from the lady centurions, her father relented and hired a trainer for her, one Captain Martin that she had admired until his death off in a foreign land. "He's certainly skilled with a spear, a good example of what a centurion should be."

"What's he like in person?" one of her sisters asked, curious. "I've seen that Cicero before; he's certainly handsome, although I didn't get to talk with him like you."

She mentally reviewed what she had prepared for this question. "He's a serious guy who takes his duties to heart." She could safely say that, based on what he'd talked about at the party when she'd first encountered him. "But that's okay because that kind of attitude made him important in lots of the conflicts he's been sent to. When you talk to him, it's really easy to respect that. Still, he's nice and I think he could be a warm person once he opens up. He's also quite pious; we talked about religious poems over dinner." That was probably a good lie, as the one poet he seemed interested in at the reading was the guy who usually did religious stuff over romance.

"Wow, doesn't seem like the kind of man you'd go after," her sister said, smiling in amusement.

"Well, you know," she put her hands on her hips, having to come up with something quick. She'd expected that they'd be happy because, "I was thinking, maybe I really should try going with someone more responsible than my last sweetheart. That way I wouldn't have to deal with the mess that ended with again." But the so-called responsible men that her parents liked were boring. Like Cicero; he was serious the entire time and didn't show a flicker of passion at anything. Not the poems, not the sparring, not even when Aeolus had swept her away from him. She didn't know if she could stand being around him for very long, not without other things to pass the time with.

But her parents didn't understand that. "That's good of you to realize that," her mother said. "You'll have a better life in the end if you pursue that kind of thinking."

More like a boring life. Still, she tolerated the family chatter for a short time. If she didn't do that, or keep up the probably needless daily prayer rituals to Gaia, her father would be angry and refuse to let her leave the palace. He might even restrict her to her room with limited meals if he got mad enough. But it didn't bother her like it used to. Really, she only needed to do this until she got a chance to get out of here. Then she could sweep Aeolus away to be hers and hers alone, as well as do something great that would make her mark on history. She just had to wait until the time was right.

That evening, she sat in the music room she shared with her sisters, practicing with a lap harp while she waited. On the table nearby, she had the charm that Cicero's eagle had snapped in two. It was really unfortunate that it had broken, since it was supposed to help prepare her mind and spirit for what was to come. Most of her family had gone to bed already, but the servants she kept close knew better than to argue against what she wanted to do. They left her alone playing random songs by the moonlight. It was quite romantic, like the things the poets would write about. Now all she needed was the appearance of a mysterious dark man who came to sneak her away to a secret night of romance... so exciting!

Instead of a mysterious man, the person who came to see her was one of the dancers who entertained her father and his guests. Dagrun was at least a mysterious person, with exotic marks like hair of gold, eyes like a clear sky, and a strange name. Well, two out of three good exotic things wasn't bad. She had come from the north, a priestess who knew ancient magics and secret gods. "Calanthia, how are you doing this evening?" she asked warmly, crossing the room with what seemed like a graceful slide.

"I'm doing good; it was a great day. Oh, except," she pointed out the charm. "A bird broke it."

Dagrun raised an eyebrow as she picked it up. "A bird? Must have been quite strong. I have another just in case, but let's see how you're progressing. Keep playing."

She ran her fingers across Calanthia's forehead, chin, and neck, looking into her face. Used to this examination by now, the princess continued playing. Several months ago, the priestess had introduced herself as a servant of a goddess unknown to the empire, named Jutra. Jutra wanted to help people feel better, happy without the pain that life brought. However, a group of cruel people hated her and thus imprisoned the innocent goddess. It made little sense to Calanthia. How could anyone hate a goddess who wanted everyone to be happy and at peace?

At least Jutra had this dedicated priestess. Dagrun had traveled across many lands searching for a special person who could free the goddess from her magically sealed tomb, bringing her back to prove to the world that she brought the best future for everyone. And, the priestess had found her as having the right qualities to awaken the goddess! But Calanthia's spirit hadn't been quite right, so they had been working all this time to prepare her for her great task.

It had to be working. "I haven't been worried about much at all today," she said. "Even when the charm broke, it only bothered me for a moment. And in talking to my family, they didn't really annoy me like usual. I just need to tolerate them for now, not be angry. So it all seems peaceful to me."

"That is what we hope to bring to the world," Dagrun said. "And I think you're just about ready."

"Really?" Calanthia had to keep herself from laughing about it. It might have alerted someone.

The priestess nodded. "A few more days and we'll be ready. Which means, we should be leaving tonight. It will be a long trip to the tomb of Jutra and the last days of preparation will need us to be out of the palace, away from eyes that might discover us. Fortunately, we've been ready to leave for weeks now." She snapped her fingers, calling up one of her special veils by magic. It was a snowy white, with little sparkles like ice; Calanthia saw them clearly when the priestess dropped it over her head. With this covering her face, chest, and back, people might not recognize her easily. "Come, we'll leave quietly."

"Right," she said, placing the lap harp in the chair. Since the veil obscured her sight, she took Dagrun's hand and hurried out of the palace with her.

* * *

The morning after his outing with Princess Calanthia, Cicero spent the day posted at the docks of the city, watching out for trouble and assisting the dock guards in searching ships. He didn't get any hint that something was going on until midday, when a palace messenger tracked him down. "Do you know what's happened with Princess Calanthia?"

Cicero shook his head. "No, is something wrong? I saw her yesterday afternoon, but her bodyguards escorted her to the palace."

The messenger glanced around, then leaned in and whispered, "She's disappeared sometime since last evening. Normally we wouldn't be all that worried since she slips out from time to time, but none of her guards or her servants know where she's gone."

"I can give word to my men to keep an eye out for her," Cicero said.

He nodded. "Just don't make a big deal out of it yet, since we're not sure if she's in trouble or not. Do you know anything about where she might have gone?"

He shook his head. "I know very little about her. But, have you checked with a man named Aeolus Livius? She talked about him yesterday."

"I'm not sure, but I'll let the others know." The messenger then excused himself, so Cicero called Nadja down. He wrote a note to be alert for Calanthia and sent it with his eagle so she could get the message to his men.

For the rest of that day, he didn't hear anything more on the missing princess. Cicero wasn't worried about it. After all, she'd used him as an excuse to go see Aeolus; it was likely that she had irresponsibly gone off on her own. That made it a complete surprise when he woke up two days later to a palace messenger at his door; he had orders to go meet with the Emperor promptly. He got dressed in his armor like he would for patrolling around the city and headed to the palace with the messenger.

There were a noticeably large amount of guards around, especially near another princess that he saw as they made their way through the palace. She seemed nervous, looking from person to person in case someone were to take her away too. However, Cicero did not get much of a good look around. He was hurried along by the guards and brought directly to the Emperor, even though he was in a meeting room discussing something with a small group of Senators.

"Our great Emperor, Captain Cicero of the 152nd Company has arrived as per your orders," the messenger said, putting his arm across his chest as a salute.

"Thank the gods you've come so promptly," the Emperor said, taking two envelopes from the table and coming right over.

"I am here to serve the empire, my lord," Cicero replied.

"Good, good," he said, passing him one envelope. It had the wax seal of the empire on it, meaning these were high priority orders, over anything else. "I want you to go rescue my daughter Calanthia and bring her back home promptly."

Rescue... so something had happened. "What do you know of her disappearance?"

The Emperor handed over the other one. "She was taken three nights ago, although we had no reason to suspect kidnapping until this note arrived late yesterday. It states that she is being taken to the barbarian northlands, specifically a place called the Tomb of Jutra. We do not have any information about this location, but we knew that you were preparing for a reconnaissance mission in the area already. That, the excellent record of service you have, and how Calanthia has shown some interest in you as of recent convinces us that you're the best person to send after her. We believe they have already left the capitol, so we don't have time to waste preparing a larger rescue group. Your company will be sent up a little early, but you will be on your own for much of this mission. What other details we have are here in your hands."

While he felt a little uncomfortable about some of the Emperor's reasons, it wasn't enough to convince him to decline. Cicero saluted. "Then I will head out as soon as possible, my lord. Did you have any personal messages for her when I find her?"

"No, just get her back home safely and quickly," the Emperor said. "Thanks for understanding the importance of this. Oh yes, take this for your supplies. Don't delay." He passed over a small moneybag, then bowed his head in acknowledgment. "You're dismissed to carry out your duties, unless you have any other questions."

"Not at this time," Cicero said. "I'll review the information and send a message back to the palace if something comes up." Then he headed out, leaving them to get back to their business.

Before he left the palace, he paused to review the letters. The Emperor's was as he expected: orders to track down the princess, free her from her captives, and bring her back home safely. He was given permission to act on his own and to do what was needed to complete his objectives. While he was away, another would be assigned to fill his position. There were lines that would get him through the city gates and road checkpoints quickly, as well as permission to take one of the army's war horses to speed up his pursuit.

As for the kidnapper's note, he noticed that the letters were meticulous and the grammar was incorrect. Whoever wrote this didn't have a natural grasp on the imperial language. "We has taken the princess Calanthia with us. We are not given her back. She is need at the tomb of Jutra. You are all fall down. Goodbye." There were a few splotches from ink, but there were no other clues he could determine from the note itself.

Tomb of Jutra... Cicero headed back home. In his desk, he found the maps he had borrowed of the northern lands. There was nothing marked on any of them about a tomb, or whoever Jutra was. Then again, there wasn't much to the maps. The group that had gone fifteen years ago had constructed some roads through Hoarfrost Pass and a few miles beyond it. However, the detailing was really poor: vague notes of mountains, a few tribal towns, a coastline that didn't match between maps. The area around the roads and the location of the ravaged fort were decent, but that wasn't much to go on. The previous group had not established themselves long enough for mapmakers to perform their jobs adequately.

He'd have to go with just the road map, then. If he was quick, he might be able to catch up to the princess and her captors before they crossed into the pass. He called his house servant into the room and gave her instructions to return the other maps and take care of the house while he was gone. Then he had to prepare as fast as he possibly could.

Compass and star measure to keep track of his progress. Papers, pencils, and string so he could send Nadja or any messenger pigeons with reports. A journal to keep a travel log for his reconnaissance mission. A cloak because it would still be cold up there. Fire starting equipment, bedroll, tent, cooking kit, knives... just what he needed and what would help on the mission. Oh, and the leaves he used for sleeping aids, he had to have a supply of those. There weren't many in his tin, so he would have to pick up some at the marketplace. He got his gear in satchels and a saddle pack, then headed to the market. The leaves, a few travel foods in case of emergency...

While he was dealing with the herbalist for the sleeping herbs, he noticed that she had black peppercorns and dried ginger root on display as well. It reminded him of his talk with the Senator who wanted trade routes opened up. The northern people had a liking for those two spices and the imperial coins wouldn't be standard currency up there. Although he hoped to catch up quickly, it couldn't hurt to have something to barter with if he didn't. He went ahead and used some of what the Emperor had given him to buy a pound of the peppercorns and a couple of the roots. Those would need to be stored carefully.

After double-checking his supplies, he headed across the city to reach the army's stables. He didn't even have to open the Emperor's orders as the stable master understood once he saw the sealed letter. "You're the one being sent after Calanthia, then?"

He nodded. "Yes, and if I could leave today, that would be best."

"We've got you covered," the stablemaster said, immediately leading him to the horse they had prepared. He was tall and as black as night, with his mane cut down to army standards. Standing still and alert, the horse seemed ready to go. "This is Hammer, one of the faster distance horses we have. He doesn't scare easily, but he will be troublesome to a rider who doesn't use standard army commands in a firm voice."

Then he would be ideal for the mission. If thieves tried to take Hammer, the horse would fight them off. "Good, thank you. Everything with him taken care of for the trip?"

"Just got checked out thoroughly yesterday, he's all set. May Gaia guide your way."

Since people would keep aside for one of the army horses, Cicero rode Hammer up towards the north gate. He did make a detour to the Temple of Gaia, to make an offering and prayer in hopes that Gaia would guide his actions so that this mission was conducted well. He wasn't sure if it would really work, but he saw no harm in trying.

Cicero got to the northern gate and spotted another man on horseback. To his surprise, it was Aeolus on a well-groomed horse, probably one that his family owned. And Aoelus had quite a few bags with him, as if he were preparing for a long trip as well. Could he really be after Calanthia too? "What are you doing here?" Cicero asked.

After a moment, Aeolus recognized him and tipped his large floppy hat. "Oh, it's you, the generous fellow who was with the princess the other day. Well I have word from special sources that something unbelievably tragic has happened, as..."

"Calanthia was kidnapped," Cicero interrupted, not wanting to waste time with a poet's flowery explanation.

Aeolus looked a little miffed that he couldn't be dramatic. "Yes, that's it. And I, being the brave and dedicated man I am, have decided that..."

"You're going after her?"

"Yes, but these guards, even when I..."

"They're not letting you through because of the increased security," Cicero said, his expression stony as usual. This was a little fun. "I'm on orders to pursue her and bring her back. If you join me, I can get you through the gate and checkpoints."

Aeolus put on a smile so brilliant that it was probably fake. "Really? That's magnificent of you. We romantic heroes shall..."

"Hurry up so we can catch up," Cicero said, moving ahead towards the gate. There was a wagon getting thoroughly checked out by the gate guards, but from the looks of it, it was unlikely to be hiding someone to sneak out. He went right up to one of the guards and held the Emperor's letter down so he could see it. "I've got orders to head north after the princess."

The guard checked the permission and the seal, then nodded. "Yes, Captain, we'll let you through. Hey, raise the gate! This man is on the Emperor's orders."

Cicero snapped his fingers, then pointed back at Aeolus who was riding up. "This man is going with me."

The guard raised his eyebrows skeptically at this, but then shrugged. "Your decision, your burden."

"What do you mean by that?" Aeolus asked, fuming.

The chains clattered as the iron gate rose, opening up to the outer roads. Knowing it would take a little while, Cicero looked up and whistled as loudly as he could. Nadja descended onto his arm; Hammer didn't bat an eye at this, but Aeolus' horse whinnied nervously and stamped a hoof down. "What Nadja do for master?" the eagle asked through telepathy.

"Fly north along the road to find the princess and her captors," Cicero said. "You saw the princess three days ago, remember?"

An image flitted through his mind of him and Calanthia sparring, including that charm Nadja hated. "Find stupid princess."

"That's her," he said, used to her opinions of everyone not him. "Once you see her, make some observations and return to let me know."

"Yes master." The shade eagle then took off, flying rapidly towards the north.

By then, the gate was lifted. The wagon was made to stay until the guards were done checking it over, but Cicero and Aeolus were able to start off on the northbound road. The sun was descending in the sky, giving them a few hours to work with today. Because the princess and her captors had nearly three days of travel to get ahead, he led them in an easy run that would cover distance without exhausting the horses. At least, an army bred and trained horse could manage it. Aeolus' horse acted like it wanted to run faster at first; it kept up with Hammer decently.

As the evening approached, Cicero slowed their pace so that he could check his map. He checked the number on a road marker, found it on the map, and looked ahead for potential places to spend the night. Aeolus made a show of looking around, but Cicero doubted he could spot anything important.

"We should be getting closer to the rescue," Aeolus said.

"No," Cicero said. "My eagle hasn't returned yet."

"Ah. But we mustn't give up! The road may be long, but a hero pursuing the lady of his dreams cannot falter at the distance. As long as he keeps brave and true, he will successfully win the lady back and win her heart." He patted one of his bags, causing a muffled jangle from the strings of a lute.

Cicero wasn't even paying attention. "There's an inn ahead." Checking its road marker number, he held his hand out towards the horizon, calculating the position of the sun. "It will be dark by the time we reach it, but since the inn is there, better to push ahead and gain a little extra ground. For now..." He looked to the side of the road and noted a pond. He brought Hammer to a stop so he could dismount and allow the horses to drink and get a nibble of grass before they continued on.

"The countryside is quite a lovely place," Aeolus commented, doing the same. "A good setting for such an adventurous drama with a noble rival."

"Pardon?" Cicero asked, raising an eyebrow.

The poet made a dramatic flourish with his hand. "That's what it is, isn't it? Two dashing young men in pursuit of the lone princess..."

"She has six sisters."

"But only one of them was taken. And of course, it had to be the most beautiful of them all."

Cicero shrugged. "Some people would contest that."

Aeolus shook his head. "Perhaps, but when this gets written down, she will be recorded as being more beautiful. After all, what good is a romance story if it's not superlative? Or dramatic, or without other options for the hero or heroine to tempt them away from the love they are destined for?"

"I'm out here following orders, not pursuing romantic options," Cicero said. Someone was in trouble and it was his duty to save her. Either reason was good enough, with no need to muddle things with thoughts of what kind of story this could make.

"You're never going to get a romantic story told about you if you keep up that attitude," Aeolus said, starting to get exasperated at having an uncooperative 'rival'.

After their horses were done with their break, they rode on to the inn. Being on a major road close to the capitol, the inn was a large place built of sturdy logs. A group of traders had their wagons and horses in the stables, but there were just enough stalls for their two horses as well. Cicero and Aeolus had arrived late, but they were offered some dinner. Traders were still in the dining room, drinking and exchanging stories.

"I wonder if I could earn some coins off them with some entertaining songs," Aeolus said at one point.

"Don't be up too late," Cicero warned him. "I want to leave early."

"Can't we enjoy the journey before the violence comes?" he asked.

Cicero thought that was unreasonable if they wanted to catch up to the princess and her captors in a decent amount of time. But he didn't argue it much longer and went up to their room once he was done eating. If Aeolus wasn't up at a decent time tomorrow, he could always leave the young nobleman behind. They weren't far from the capitol, so he shouldn't get in trouble.

Why did he even take a civilian along? Aeolus wasn't slowing him down yet, but once they got into dangerous situations, he'd be a liability. True, he might prove unexpectedly useful if the captors weren't many in number. But if he died during this mission, Cicero would be in a lot of trouble with the Livius family. It might even keep him stuck as a unit captain for life. Worse could be seeing another person he was responsible for killed, like...

"He wanted to come," Cicero muttered, trying to keep his mind out of such dark thoughts. Aeolus was following his silly ideas of romantic adventures and he probably would have gotten killed by bandits or the like if he'd gone out on his own. Cicero taking him along would probably preserve Aeolus' life better. But it was going to make the eventual fight harder, since he'd have to make sure neither Calanthia nor Aeolus was badly harmed. Hopefully there weren't many among the captors.

The shutters on the window clattered, causing Cicero to tense. Was someone trying to break in? Images crawled through his mind, of nimble fighters armed with many daggers and battle mages whose every spell caused pain. Or maybe it was Nadja... but she would have called telepathically before trying to open a window. No, it was most likely some bandit who'd climbed up and was trying to break in. He could handle that easily. But what if it wasn't and the nightmares from his past were returning to punish him for...

Cicero darted to the window and flung open the shutters. The moonlight shone over a farmer's field across the imperial road. Off in the distance, an owl swooped down after some prey. Up close... nothing. A chilly wind touched his face. It was nothing but loose shutters. He could shut them again, for an obstacle in case there was someone who tried to creep in. then again, the wind would keep rattling the shutters and his nerves, and if a threat was coming, he'd rather see it to be rid of it faster. Then again, there was the chilly March air to be a bother. Or that he might not be seeing the threats.

Since this was already being a bad night, Cicero got a mug he'd brought and went downstairs to ask if they kept hot water available. They did, so he was able to soak some of his sleep leaves in it to get himself to stop thinking. Otherwise, his memories of the past and the paranoia they inspired would keep him up all night.

This kind of thing had driven some of his peers from back then to take their own lives to make it all stop.

* * *

In the few minutes it took for Cicero to dress and prepare for the day, Aeolus half woke up and grumbled about the predawn cold. Leaving him be, Cicero took his spear and combat knife downstairs to run through his practice routines behind the inn. There was no one to spar with and nothing for a suitable target, but that didn't matter. He went through the motions and drills, going over the lessons from his training days in his head. Like a knife had to be sharpened before its tasks, a solider had to keep his body and mind prepared for the battles to come.

When the sun was over the horizon, he paused to face it and offer a prayer to Gaia. Some days he wondered if he should really keep this up; he knew a fair number in the army who didn't, saying that there were so many gods in the world who didn't care much for the everyday lives of mortals. Then again, it usually calmed him after a bad night and it was a good respect in case the gods were watching. With that done, he finished off his drills and headed back in to gather the rest of his things. And Aeolus.

The poet was awake by then, if not entirely alert. "Why're the shutters open?" he asked right before yawning.

"They're serving breakfast downstairs," Cicero said, securing his bags. "Get yourself together quickly; we don't want to lose time and ground in this pursuit."

"What's so important about going soon?" Aeolus asked.

"Rescuing Calanthia," he reminded him. That worked, getting the poet to hurry up his preparations.

As Cicero had paid for the room last night, they were able to have breakfast and then be on the road when the day was barely an hour old. It was a long day of travel, without knowing how well they were catching up. At a few points, Cicero wondered if the note about the Tomb of Jutra to the north wasn't a ruse. Hopefully not; it would waste a lot of time.

Good news didn't come until late afternoon the next day, when Cicero stopped to make camp. "Why don't we continue until dark?" Aeolus had asked.

"There isn't an inn along this stretch of road, not in a reasonable distance," he replied. "And we don't want to be setting up a campsite in the dark. Do you know how to pitch a tent?"

"No."

"How about start a campfire?"

Aeolus shrugged. "The servants handled the fires, but I think I can do it."

This was going to be the real hassle. "Go gather some wood," Cicero said, although he wasn't going to trust Aeolus with starting the actual fire.

While he was setting up camp, he felt a call from Nadja and whistled for her in response. The shade eagle descended, looking to be in good shape. "Stupid princess and others on the road," she said, sending him an image.

There were four horses heading north, about the same pace he and Aeolus had kept most of the day. Calanthia wasn't restrained and was allowed her own white horse, but Nadja had noticed a curse that would have kept her unable to resist anything that anyone tried to do with her. With her, there was a blond-haired woman that seemed like a northerner, a man also of northern descent, and another man who had the medium-tone skin that most imperial citizens had. The last was wearing the armor and uniform of a guard from the imperial palace. Once he got a good look at the group, Nadja pointed out a few landscape features to help identify their location.

Cicero stroked her head. "Thank you, Nadja, good job. Take a rest for tonight."

She sent him a sense that she was happy to see him safe, then took off to find a tree to sleep in. Cicero continued setting up camp, only turning to his map when the fire was going steady and the tents were secure. This time, Nadja had given him a building to work with, another inn and stable, along with natural features. It wasn't as useful as having a road marker, but the eagle couldn't read and sometimes her images of text were unclear. But what she had noticed gave him a good idea of where they were. The location she had found them at, they could reach within a couple of days. Then based on the position of the sun in the vision... Cicero had to pull out a small abacus he'd brought to do some calculations with.

"Planning our route at this time?" Aeolus asked, not nearly as spirited as he'd been the first night. "I thought you didn't know where that tomb was."

Looking at the beads, then at the map, he focused on the problem for a moment before responding, "I don't, but Nadja found them. Based on their rate of travel against ours... we may have to push it and get a little lucky, but we could catch up to them in seven days. Ten at a more reasonable pace."

"Seven days? Any way we could cut that down?"

Cicero shook his head. "Not unless we can swap horses. It's not safe or right to push them hard for that long. With no army bases between here and the pass, getting fresh horses is not going to be possible. They're keeping a good pace too."

Aeolus took a small blue flower off his shirt and looked at it. "Today was grueling and we have seven more days like this?"

"At best." He folded his map back up to store. "I'm going to keep going, but you don't have to if it's too much for you or your horse."

"A romantic hero shouldn't give up," he said, although he sounded uncertain if this was what he wanted.

While Cicero was focusing on his predawn drills, he heard a scream from nearby. He spun around, shifting his spear stance to one suited for battle. However, it was only Aeolus, scrambling out of his tent and trying to brush something off his skin. His hair was a mess. Sighing, Cicero asked, "What is it?"

"Ants!" Aeolus cried out, still trying to remove them. "I started waking up and they were crawling all over me."

"Go wash them off in the pond over there," he suggested, turning back around to pick up his place in the drill.

By the time they broke out a breakfast of travel biscuits and jerky, Aeolus was in a thoroughly bad mood. "Had to sleep in the cold, which took me hours to get to sleep, and then I wake up covered in dirt, twigs, and ants, and then you suggest washing up in that bitter cold stream," he grumbled.

"We have another long day riding," Cicero reminded him. "And it'll stay cold as long as we keep heading north. It's too early to be complaining."

"I don't know if I'm cut out for this," he said.

Once he was done eating, Cicero gathered up his things and prepared Hammer for the day. Aeolus remained sitting by the embers. When there wasn't anything else to do, Cicero kicked dirt over the coals to make sure they wouldn't start another fire. "Are you coming?'

"No," Aeolus said. "As much as I'm worried about Calanthia, I'm not going to be able to keep up this pace. Oh, but here, you should take this." He got up, plucking a blue flower out of his bag and offering it.

"Why?" he asked, not sure what good a flower would do him. Some of them could be infused in water for benefits that healers knew about, but he didn't know what effects beyond his sleeping leaves.

Aeolus insisted on putting the flower into the clasp Cicero used to secure his cloak. "Well if you're going to take over as the sole hero of this romance, you'd better look the part. I had to grab this cornflower from a flower seller before I left the capitol. It's a flower of destiny, especially concerning the princess, plus it brings good luck to a new love. Keep it and the gods will give you their favor."

"Isn't it a weed?" The only thing he knew about this flower was that some farmers complained it drew nutrients away from grain plants.

"That's only looking at it from a narrow point of view. Hmm, Cicero!" He smiled, now that he didn't have to deal with the work of this mission. "Bring Calanthia back safely. I look forward to writing something in your honor." He even gave a bow.

"That's not the point," Cicero said. But there was no talking sense into some people, especially poets. He got into Hammer's saddle and continued heading north along the road, eventually tossing the cornflower to the side. He had no need for romantic details or a wilting flower.


	5. A Broken Bridge

**Chapter 5: A Broken Bridge**

To Calanthia, the days passed by in a blur. A happy blur of freedom, riding horses just because and picking flowers when they let her. Most of the time, she didn't know what the others were talking about. It was funny, but she couldn't hear their voices well over the music in her head. But the music was nice and sometimes she sang along with it. Then they told her that her voice was lovely and it made her even happier. Where were they even going? Calanthia had forgot, but she didn't care.

They had stopped again, in front of a bridge across a gushing river. Calanthia brought one leg over her horse, dropping down and stumbling onto her hands and knees when she tried to land. "Whoopsie," she said, then giggled. She sat down and looked over the grass swaying in the wind, the water frothing white around rocks, the blue mountains taking over the northern horizon, the clear bright blue sky, the bright golden sun. It was so beautiful.

"On your feet, princess," Dagrun said, taking her hand and lifting her up. "We have to cross the bridge."

Calanthia got up, putting a hand on her horse to steady herself. "Oh? We could just ride."

"Not across this bridge." The priestess began leading her and the horses across the bridge. It was wooden, creaking under their feet and trembling when one of the horses stamped nervously. With every step, water spray splashed against their feet, just barely not going over the bridge.

"This was supposed to be temporary, to be replaced by a second crew while the first continued making the road go north," a guardsman said. "But the second crew never got up here and after the fort was attacked, the first crew decided not to replace the bridges they made. A few of the others have collapsed."

"We could take this one out," the other man said. Calanthia wasn't sure who he was, but he had yellow hair too. Not as pretty as Dagrun's, though. He did wear a kind of hat made from squirrel fur, which she thought was adorable. He didn't like it when she said that. "It would slow down any pursuers we have."

"Why would we have pursuers?" Dagrun asked. "We set up a situation where they wouldn't have suspected that she was outside the city immediately. They might only be considering that now, when they figure out that she's not with that fool Aeolus or something. I hope he got imprisoned for this."

"Where is Aeolus?" Calanthia asked, wondering about it now that she'd heard his name. That would make this trip even nicer, if Aeolus was there to make poems just for her.

They ignored her question. "I thought we were leaving them notice of the rise of Jutra," the man with the squirrel hat said.

"Yeah, that's what I thought too," the guard said.

"Did you leave a note saying that we were taking her with us?" Dagrun asked, angry for some reason. Why be angry? It was such a nice day.

The two men looked at each other. "Well..."

"We did," the guard said.

Dagrun grumbled something in her language, then said, "Fine, we'll destroy the bridge." Once they were across, she had the two men attack the bridge with the firewood-chopping ax and the other man's battle hammer.

It seemed silly to Calanthia. The bridge hadn't done anything to them. Since they didn't need her, she sat down by the river and looked over the few flowers blooming there. Bits of purple, white, and yellow... she thought that she should know their names, but the words weren't coming up in her mind. All well, they were pretty sitting among the new spring grass. She wondered if anyone there thought of her like that, like another flower sitting in the grass. Aeolus would have said that.

And her father might have said something like that. Although it wouldn't be as nice if he did. She had been born with the mark of a particular flower, the cornflower, and so he'd named her something about flowers in an older language. It was supposed to be something about her destiny. But, the cornflower was a weed. She didn't like them.

That wasn't the only thing her father did that she didn't like. He didn't like her learning to battle, even if she didn't really fight. Instead, he wanted her to be be another flower in the garden, like her other sisters. Pretty to look at, pretty to hear, staying safe and clean in a restricted space, easy to ignore when 'important' things were going on, not really useful but nice to look at and admire. Although weeds were unwanted and apparently her destiny was linked to a weed. Did her father not want her? At least Aeolus wanted her. He was so sweet, stealing her heart away in their first conversation and treating her very well. Maybe Aeolus would come to her. He loved her; he would come.

"How are you doing, princess?" Dagrun said, coming over to her while the men beat the bridge into the river.

"Can I change my flower destiny?" she asked, sniffling. "My dad's an idiot."

"You are doing that," she said, putting her hand on Calanthia's shoulder. "We need you to do something great. Are you troubled? Listen to me for a moment." Then she began speaking in her language again.

They didn't just want her around; they needed her around. She'd forgotten why they needed her. But, did it really matter? Listening to Dagrun was soothing and before long, she didn't care about any of it. "I'm listening," she said dreamily when Dagrun stopped. "But I don't understand."

"Have faith; don't worry." The priestess pulled her to her feet again and helped her back onto the horse. Then they were riding north once again, the bridge in the water behind them.

* * *

From the shelter of a boulder's shadow, Stieg watched the four leave the broken bridge behind. It had been a man and woman from the northern tribes, albeit with tribal signs he didn't recognize, and a man and woman from the southern empire. He had wondered at first if these people were who he was supposed to meet. However, too many signs were wrong. The imperial soldier was not alone and he rode a brown horse on the main road. None of the horses were black, not even partly black like Smoke. And, there was no statue of an eagle. It couldn't even be matched on a symbolic level.

They were gone, so he left his hiding place and headed back to the narrow foot trail that led to a higher path. He'd been here a couple of days, so he had found the spot on the sidepath that he'd seen. However, he'd come down here hoping to catch a fish from the main river. Since that group included people from the empire, Stieg felt like it was a sign that he should return to the path with the eagle statue and prepare his ambush.

That seemed like the proper course of things. War was approaching with the southern lands and the lone soldier had to be a scout. Perhaps even the four he'd seen were involved, two traitors bringing in two spies. Later, he should track them down to kill too. But first, he had to kill the lone scout. Something one of them held might be important to his people. Or losing all five of their advance force would make the empire reconsider their war. Maybe Stieg really could prevent such a thing.

Now was the time to wait. He felt confident that the path to his new destiny would start soon.

* * *

As they approached the river, Cicero slowed Hammer's pace until they stopped at the bridge. At least, where there should have been a bridge. Instead, there were two posts on both sides of the river, a few broken boards, and a river swollen with spring run-off. He considered having Hammer jump the river. Some of the army horses could make impressive leaps. However, the river was swift and strong, and he wasn't entirely sure of Hammer's capabilities. A miscalculation here could end up killing them both.

"Now what?" Cicero muttered, then pulled out his map. He had planned to continue along the road unless Nadja told him that they'd left it. But if this bridge was broken, the princess' captors would have to find another way around too.

While he looked it over, his stomach growled. Last night he had failed to find anything to eat. Some creature, a rat or something, had stolen the last of his jerky and nibbled at part of the ginger root. Although this pass was becoming green, much of the land around it was still hard from winter. Not many animals were out and he had lost some time in eating something that wasn't good a few days ago. Cicero had calculated that he could finish this pursuit just north of the pass, but if he did, he was definitely staying a few days here with the princess to get some fish and pick up his strength for the return trip.

Unfortunately, he was well past the area where the map's quality took a sharp downgrade. Parts of the pass seemed well marked, but anything not near the river was lumped into a mountainous space fill. There was some hope in that there were supposed to be two bridges along the Hoarfrost Pass road, to keep the road as even as possible while working around the river's path. If he could find a way to get around this half of the river, he'd end up back on the road.

Looking ahead, he saw that a canyon wall was ahead, making this side of the river get narrow and treacherous. Off to the side, he noticed a worn path that seemed like travelers were still taking it. It headed upwards. Perhaps that way would be useful. Cicero tugged on the reins, commanding Hammer to back away from the river and head for the upper path.

It seemed to be the right choice at first. The upper path gave him a good view over the river; the smoothness and the lack of rocks and weeds told him that locals probably used this still. At one point, it led him away from the river for a while, which seemed okay. But then gaps in boulders revealed that the river was getting further away. Ahead of him, a mountain rose up seemingly in the way he was taking. Was this still the right way? But if he backtracked now, he'd lose the ground he'd gained. Where was Nadja? He'd sent her to check on them again, so she should be returning soon.

For that matter, where was he going?

He stopped Hammer at a crossroad, near a small stream that flowed towards the river. While the horse took a drink, Cicero got off and crossed the water to look around. There were three ways to go now: backtracking, off to the right, or ahead and up... and heading off right, away from the river as well. The stream went down a narrow passage to the left that he might be able to walk, but it'd be difficult to bring Hammer through. Near the path that went immediately right, there was a tall statue, a post where a stone eagle spread its wings in flight. And, this might be a place where bandits could ambush him. He had to give his horse a break, but he needed to be careful too.

Checking out the eagle statue, he found some text that he couldn't understand. From the shape of its head, beak, and tail, he could tell that it wasn't the same species as Nadja. It was probably a bird that lived around here. Cicero wondered what this statue signified. In his research, animals seemed to be very important to these people, simultaneously hunted and respected.

On the northern path just out of sight, Stieg was watching, waiting for a good moment. This was definitely the right person. Unlike the other imperial man, this one had a helm of dark metal with a crest of red hair going along the middle of it. Much of his body was covered up by a thick red cloth, tightly clasped near his neck but loose around his legs. On the other side of crossroad was the black horse, with a mane cut short and gear of remarkable quality. Other than the horse, the solider was alone.

This was the time. Stieg took a few steps out of the man's sight and into a better position, then ran into the open. "You, imperial fiend!" he said in the imperial tongue. "You will die for trespassing into our lands."

Gripping his spear, Cicero turned to the source of the surprisingly well-spoken threat. It was from a wild-looking man, with rough stubble, crinkled pale yellow hair under his wolf-headed helm, scars over his well-muscled body, leather and fur armor, and a chipped but thick battleax held in both hands. His immediate assessment of this threat was that he did not want to get hit with that ax. Just one blow could severely hamper his ability to fight back, if it didn't take off a limb in the first place. "Sorry, but I have business here," he stated calmly. "It doesn't need concern you."

"That you are here is enough," Stieg said, then gave a fierce scream as he darted for the foreigner, bringing his ax into a downward chop.

Cicero quickly stepped to the side, using the northerner's momentum against him. He reached up and slipped his cloak's clasp over, to give himself more freedom in moving his arms. As he brought his spear into a defending stance, emphasis on dodging, his opponent turned to face him. By his posture, he was going to try an upward attack. Cicero held his spear's tip out and downward, hopefully making him wary of getting too close. Instead, the northerner attempted to break his spear, most likely moving to attack him directly once its threat was gone.

They fought for several minutes. Cicero knew that he couldn't last much longer, so he started looking for an opening. Stieg felt the same way, unless he could tap into his blood rage. With that active, he wouldn't care about the potential danger of running close to a guy with a spear. But his rage was staying at a small ember today. Why? He thought Faerge wanted to overtake him, so why would the demon neglect this opportunity when he wanted to use the rage? Not only that, but it was hard to get angry at this guy. He was so quiet and calm through this whole battle, not a single battle cry. Did he not have emotions or fear?

Feeling this had to end, Stieg tried to dash to the soldier's side and strike with as much strength as he could muster. Cicero made a turn-step out of his way again, then kicked into the barbarian's wrist right as his strike came to an end. This blew the ax out of Stieg's hands, making it easy for Cicero to shove him to the ground with the handle of his spear. With the breath knocked out of him, Stieg wasn't able to react as Cicero brought the spearhead to his neck. If the tip was any closer, it would have drawn blood.

That was it; his destiny was death. For a moment, Stieg wondered why Varda and his wolf servant were being so cruel to him. Was it punishment for failing to control his rage? But the imperial soldier didn't move for a moment, didn't kill him. What was he thinking?

Cicero was finding it hard to think. After getting by on such little food and then fighting this battle, he felt more like he'd give up nearly anything just to get something to eat. But once he snapped himself out of that, he began to consider what to do now. No one else was attacking him, so this man was most likely alone. But it was still late winter in this region, so he most likely knew how to get by around here and what would be safe to eat. He also could speak Cicero's language, which could be a great boon.

"What do you want?" Stieg asked in irritation. "I was out to kill you so why not kill me?"

"I could," Cicero said. "But I could strike a deal with you too. You know how to get around this area, right? I could use a local guide. I'm in pursuit of a kidnapped princess and her captors, with a vague idea of where they're going here. Will you help me track them down? I'll spare you for that."

Stieg was stunned for a moment by this stupidity. He had said he was going to kill him! And then this man asks for help? For... a few of the words he didn't quite understand. "A... princess?"

"One of the Emperor's daughters."

"Fine. I'll help you out, I promise." At least, he'd help until he got a good chance to kill this idiot. He said he was just here after the daughter of his leader, but he was still to be suspected as a scout for war.

With that promise, he moved his spear and let Stieg free. "Good. Call me Cicero."

"I'm Stieg." He got up, thinking. The stones and the wolf spirit suggested that this path could meet both of his goals. So, this princess, she might love him? "Where are they going?"

"It's not on my maps, but their letter said the tomb of Jutra." He headed over to bring his horse over the stream.

"Jutra?" Stieg said, his voice tinged with spite. "Are they trying to wake her up?"

Cicero shook his head. "I don't know why, just that they're headed there. Who is she?"

"A demon who likes to freeze the hearts and minds of men, and make them battle for her amusement. My tribe sealed her away generations ago, but I've been there and seen her remains with my own eyes. We don't want her awake."

"Then that's another reason to catch up to them quickly. Although... we can get out of the pass on this path, right? The bridge on the road was broken."

"We can," Stieg said, but then got interrupted by a dead boar being dropped between them. It had deep wounds caused from claws around its neck. However, boars had tough skin, so whatever caused those injuries had to be immensely strong.

Cicero then looked up, holding out his arm for an unusual black eagle to land on. Stieg felt like he barely heard something. "Cicero was hungry. Nadja find meat."

"Oh, thank you Nadja," he said, petting the eagle on the head.

For a moment, Stieg wasn't sure what was more shocking: seeing that the eagle must have killed and carried that boar for the solider or realizing that the solider might not have been in the best of shape when he defeated him. This man may be a fool, but he was a dangerous fool. "You command eagles?" he asked.

"Just this one," Cicero said. "Do we make camp here or move elsewhere?"

They didn't want to be traveling with horses here in the dark. And, the boar was a serious temptation.  
While it might take much of the remaining day and night to take care of, it'd be a lot of meat for the coming days. Stieg picked up the boar's carcass. "There's a better site not far up the road. I left my horse there; let's go."

"Sure," he said, not arguing about the boar as he led his horse and eagle along the path.

* * *

Cicero had started up the fire again, chopped some firewood for the night, fetched some spring water to boil, and set up his tent. In the meantime, Stieg handled butchering the boar Nadja had killed. He seemed quite skilled at it, Cicero noticed. There was no hesitation as he skinned the animal and sorted its parts. He even offered Nadja one of the legs respectfully, which pleased her. When it came to cooking it, he didn't add much, just some herb leaves he picked a few steps out of their campsite, a small lump of salt, some of the spring water, and the boar's own fat and feet. The smell was enticing, reminding him of how long it had been since he'd ate anything decent.

As it got to be dark, Stieg split a few of the larger bones. Then he handed a couple to Cicero. "Have the middle; the rest won't be ready for a long while."

"Thanks," he said, accepting it. He was wary. Even if he'd gotten a promise out of this man, he had threatened to kill him. Plus, he'd never eaten the bones of something. There was a soft spongy part inside, surprisingly. He glanced at Nadja.

"Hood food inside bone," she told him, using her beak to crack the leg bone she had easily.

Once he'd chewed on it a while, Cicero decided that this bone marrow wasn't something he'd take if he had a choice. But it was food, appeasing his hunger at last. Stieg was handling the cooking meat and wasn't talkative, other than to ask him to leave the bone parts in a pile. Cicero was tired, so he went to his tent to sleep.

He kept his combat knife was close, though. And there was, "Nadja, can you keep an eye on things?" he asked quietly.

From outside the tent, she answered, "Nadja watch good."

Trusting her, he soon was asleep.

* * *

Stieg kept a eye on the cooking meat. The heat needed to stay even within the pot, so he checked with a twig, turning the pot and shifting coals. Meanwhile, the fire had to stay low but steady. If it got too much energy going, it would burn the outside while not cooking the inside. His tribe survived off fishing, hunting, and farming; all who participated in the first two were taught how to prepare, cook, and save food on the spot. This had to last as long as possible, although he had to account for leaving tomorrow to pursue the people who had stolen the girl.

That was with or without the imperial soldier here. To Stieg, anyone willing to steal other people from their homes could be willing to do something as terrible as awakening the demon Jutra. War with the southern empire was a threat, but not as much as war with Jutra around. It seemed like a good plan to go after them to put a stop to their plans, rescuing the princess as a way to gain control over his rage. Then he could handle the demons within him and live a good life after that. Never mind that she was an imperial too. She could stay up here with him.

For now, he had to deal with this solider. It shouldn't be too hard to kill off Cicero. He was asleep and didn't seem to be expecting an attack. Picking up a long piece of the bone, he felt along the edges. This could be made sharper in a few minutes, sharp enough to slit his throat. With this, or his hunting knife, either way didn't matter. Or even his ax, for a good quick end to him.

There was one obstacle: the eagle. Although it was night and the bird should be asleep, she was perched on a rock just outside of her master's tent. She watched him as a threat that she had no qualms about taking out violently. This eagle had killed a boar that was probably twice her weight, then transported it goodness knows how far to bring it to Cicero. From the looks of the wounds, she had dug into its neck, piercing its backbone with her talons. The other scratches maybe have been from her staying on while it tried to shake her. The eagle showed no signs of injury from where he was siting watching her.

When he stood up, she opened her beak in a threat. "Stay away ugly wolfman," the odd not-voice from before said.

"Right," he said, going to check on the area around the campsite. For that night, he wasn't able to think of a way past the eagle. Even when she tucked her head under her wing, she was still alert enough to look sharply at him when he picked up a rock. But he'd figure something out.

Later that night, when the meat and fire were safe to leave on their own, Stieg did some readings with the rune stones. They confirmed that Cicero was also important to the coming war, but they didn't give any indication how to best defeat or kill him. The stones said that the eagle was from the far southeast, well past the horizon even on the mountaintops. On her, they didn't give a clear reading. She was some kind of animal guide, but wasn't a spirit and her master was a mortal. That made some sense of her unusual strength and being able to talk into his mind. Did that mean the empire was making the servants of the gods their own? They were truly vain and foolish.

There was just one more thing he wanted to ask the stones before he went to sleep: why he hadn't been able to use his blood rage against Cicero. Perhaps it was because the man was so calm. Most fights Stieg had been in consisted of a lot more threats and yelling. Other than to dismiss him at first, Cicero hadn't really insulted him.

Two clusters appeared. A fire stone was near a demon stone, thus it meant Faerge. The other cluster was around a rune meaning connection. Disapproval near a mark meaning 'most', union and reliance in an unfavorable position. Faerge had held back because the demon hated that Stieg wouldn't rely on him and follow his requests. The demon was probably laughing at how he'd been humiliated.

So he couldn't rely on his innate power and that eagle was going to be blocking the way.

* * *

Stieg got up at dawn only to find that the solider was already awake. He was without his cloak, instead wearing dark metal armor. Standing a short ways out of their campsite, he was facing the sun with his eyes mostly closed. Probably prayer to one of his tribe's many many gods. Stieg wondered briefly how they could possibly follow so many gods at once. He only had Varda to really worry about appeasing, and the warrior god had lots of expectations of his followers. What if one of the gods wanted something done one way when another god wanted it done another way? Whatever was done, one of the gods would end up doing some smiting as punishment. It all seemed foolish. Stieg left the campsite to take care of some things.

When he got back a few minutes later, Cicero was calmly fighting thin air. It didn't take long to figure out that this was some kind of practice routine. To Stieg, it seemed like a waste of energy, and time because they were supposed to be tracking people down before they did something stupid. But maybe this was a boon for him. He could study how the soldier practiced so that next time they fought, Stieg would have some advantage over him. He didn't need to practice; chopping wood and handling other daily tasks was enough to keep him in shape. He started storing the boar meat in pouches, but watched the practice.

Although it might have been wiser to give the soldier less food to keep him weak, Stieg went ahead and kept out two fair potions of the organ meats that would go bad quicker. "There won't be much to hunt once we get past the pass, so we need to make this last," he said as Cicero came over for breakfast.

"That's reasonable, thank you," he said. His reaction to the meat was that he wasn't used to eating organs, which was a shame (some of them were the best parts). They didn't talk much, other than to confirm that they were headed to the north end of the pass today. Once they finished eating, they packed up their things and rode their horses up the trail.

Fortunately, the side trail did come down and back into the main valley of the pass. They camped at the site of the other bridge, which was also broken, then headed on along the road. Shortly past noon, they came across the remains of a campfire.

Stieg and Cicero dismounted their horses to give them a break while they investigated the campfire. There were no embers, just cold coals. On the ground, Cicero could make out tent stake holes and some shoeprints. This group would not have passed muster in the army, he thought. Clean a campsite to deter thieves and spies was what they taught. But that was all he could tell.

After examining some charcoal, Stieg said, "Four people camped here two nights before we met. Not very good at it."

Cicero nodded. That would slow them down, allowing them to catch up. Still, three and a half days behind; getting sick from that food had really hurt his efforts. Looking ahead, he saw hills and forests. The mountains were to their sides and behind them. "That sounds right. Where do we head from here?"

"Up the road, then to the northeast when it starts heading west. It's about three weeks travel from here to Jutra's tomb, give or take a few days with the weather and the mountains there." He looked around at the campsite a moment longer, then added, "Given what's here, they're going to have a tough time of it. This is the last area that spring has touched so far. It's winter for quite some time as we go north."

Cicero silently thanked the gods that he had met this guide, even though Nadja noted that Stieg was still a potential threat. The worst winter he'd lived through was in Liyra and this was further north. How cold would it get here?

But no matter what weather they'd face, he'd still continue this mission.

* * *

_A/N: To the reader who left a comment here, Cicero is 19 years old only in the first chapter, the one titled 'A Few Years Ago'. For most of this story, he's 24 or 25.  
_


	6. A Discussion of Maps

**Chapter 6: A Discussion of Maps**

One advantage of traveling with Stieg over Aeolus was that Cicero could squeeze out a little more time each day in actually traveling. The barbarian knew how to make and break a camp. When they split the work, it cut the time down drastically. They could travel until nearly sunset and still be safe. Not only that, but Stieg was able to pick out good camping sites even better than he could.

Late on the fifth day they traveled together, they found themselves in a rolling grassland covered in dry tall grasses. There were very few trees here, although Cicero could see a forest to the north. The hills would make for difficult marching, but the dips could be used tactically to disguise a troop's true strength. However, the advantage would be to whoever held the highest hills with archers. Maybe even catapults; a single large stone would be a strong hit, but many small stones could cripple many of a foe's men.

But if things went how he wanted, it wouldn't come to war. Cicero still found himself spending bits of time accessing the landscape with battles and centurions in mind. In this, he wondered how long Valens had been thinking of him as a replacement general to lead the whole company. His leader had been spent many quieter days in Indrel and Liyra teaching him about tactics, leadership, and landscapes.

He could imagine what Valens would be saying. You left the road yesterday, so keep alert at all times in these uncharted hills. The ground is still hard with frost, but it will be softer in the summer, harder to get horses and large equipment out here. Be defensive and think carefully before going on the offensive during the winter months. Also, beware of that forest. It will be a headache to go through with the entire company, so split into lines or even less. Scout the paths, look for smoke indicating habitation, know that they will have an even greater advantage within the trees they know.

Stieg slowed his horse more than usual as they came to the top of one of the hills, so Hammer kept the same pace. The war horse was trained to do so, to keep neat rows and lines when traveling with other horses. At the top, Cicero noticed a change in the landscape ahead. There was a wide gap in the hills, creeping in an uneven path. White and gray could be spotted in the brown grasses. Most likely, it was a river.

"Over that way is our best bet for a campsite tonight," Stieg said, pointing to one of the hills across the river, a little to the west.

It wasn't enough of a deviation from their northeasterly track to complain about. "All right," he said.

When they got to the river, Cicero felt that he would fully agree with that. The hill was steep on its southern side, roots of a tree overhead sticking out of the icy ground. It looked like that side had collapsed some time ago. At the base of the hill, they'd be protected from the northern winds and it shouldn't take much to cut that down even more.

But first, there was the river. Twelve feet across at this point, but it was impossible for Cicero to tell how deep it was. There was a coating of snow over it, smoothed and shined by the wind. There wasn't a sign of any bridge at this part of the river. Nearby, Stieg's horse stamped in nervousness; he could tell the river was there and was uncertain of crossing. Hammer flicked an ear and waited for a command.

Stieg dismounted, taking his ax with him. After brushing aside the snow, he tapped the handle against the ice, then kicked away some more and tapped further across the river. Cicero dismounted and watched. Was it worth taking the risk of crossing the river? It was cool today, above freezing but not enough to break this ice. But the weight of their horses could do so. However, the barbarian seemed to know what he was doing.

After checking on the ice, Stieg came back and looked over Hammer. The black horse snorted a warning. "Calm," Cicero ordered, putting a hand on the horse's neck.

"We can make it across if we walk them," Stieg finally said. "No heavy footfalls. Have your horse lead."

Was it because the barbarian and his horse would get away faster if the ice started to crack? Or was it simply taking advantage of the horses' behaviors? Cicero wasn't sure, but he was going to put his faith on the latter explanation. "All right." He took hold of Hammer's reins. "Soft step, come."

The horse followed obediently, keeping his hooves low as they cautiously followed Stieg's footprints over the ice. In most cases, the soft step was used to quietly maneuver around some foe or obstacle. It was suitable here to keep a low impact on the ice. Covered by the snow, the ice was a little rough. The slow pace kept them from slipping. Stieg started his horse across not long after them. Reassured by the lead, the gray horse mimicked their movements and didn't make nervous mistakes. They got across safely and went to set up their camp there.

To get a good spot to make a campfire, Cicero spent some time clearing the snow away. He found a number of rocks to form a circle. As for the wood, there seemed to be several trees on this hill and those nearby. Before he could head off to do that, Stieg called his name. "Bring the buckets over here so the horses don't have to eat the snow for water."

He had found water? Cicero got the two buckets and did as asked. In the middle of the river, Stieg had cut out a circle of ice and pulled it out. There was indeed some water flowing underneath. "Was it safe to cross?" Cicero asked. "That doesn't seem like a lot."

Putting a hand on the clump of ice he'd pulled out, Stieg thought a moment, then said, "We were okay today. Another few days of this weather would have made it unsafe for the horses. I'm going to look for fish. Are you gathering wood?"

"Yes," Cicero said. That was necessary for them to have a fire out here.

He looked over at the few trees on the hills, then started drawing a symbol in the snow. "Be careful. We're in the Arden tribe's territory and if you harm one of their sacred trees, we'll be in a lot of trouble. Don't even consider if you see them or not. They have ways of finding out and will retaliate violently." He pointed to the symbol, a spiky double circle that reminded Cicero of sun symbols. "If they've got a stone maker with this on it near a tree, leave it be."

He nodded. "Sure, thanks for letting me know."

It might have been superstition that these Arden people could tell if one of their trees was damaged and by who, but he knew better than to disrespect such beliefs in others. Before the castle siege in Klusia, he had disbelieved talk that a certain hill was sacred and the shade eagles were spies for evil. They had suffered a fierce attack in vengeance for treading on that hill and once he learned what shade eagles could do, he knew why people would worry about seeing one. Although he was certain that the eagles weren't evil, even if Nadja was spiteful to everyone but him.

On top of the hill, he found that the largest tree, the one closest to the drop over their camp, was marked by such a stone. It was a yew tree, as far as he could tell, with a wide trunk and crooked branches from a hard existence. Cicero wasn't sure what they would honor this particular tree for. Maybe some local legend. Thankfully, other trees on the hill were not marked and he was free to find branches and logs near them to use.

When he got back to start up the fire, Stieg was still crouched by the hole in the river, waiting Cicero didn't think he'd catch anything. The river was frozen. Didn't that mean the fish were sleeping? Or something like that. Cicero worked on the fire, keeping an eye on the barbarian. He knew Stieg was watching him in the mornings when he practiced, but it didn't bother him. After all, he hadn't tried attacking him again.

The fire took a little while longer to catch, but it was soon burning bright and hot. There was no wind to blow it about here; Cicero still waited to make sure it stayed confined in its ring of stones. Over by the river, Stieg had finally moved. In quick motions, he pulled on a string, stabbed his knife into the hole, then pulled out a good sized fish. He then worked at carving up the fish, removing its scales and bones.

Cicero felt impressed watching this. He wouldn't have thought to be fishing with string and a knife. Maybe a net and a trident, like the fishers at the capitol often used. The knife didn't seem to have much reach, and the string... he wasn't sure what use the string would be. Attracting the fish somehow? But he had never fished himself.

It was the same in many lands, wasn't it? The local peoples would know how to best use their resources. The fishers in Liyra knew the migrations of their fish and would find other foods when the fish weren't around. Meanwhile, the fishers in Idrel knew how to dive deep into the sea for find some of their favored fish. And there was a fish in Klusia that was poisonous, yet they knew how to reduce its poisons to make a tasty dish. It seemed that fishers up here knew how to catch fish despite winter's ice. Moving any of those fishers elsewhere would make them less effective.

After they shared the meal, there wasn't much else that had to be done. Cicero brought out his journal and star compass. He noted the river, hills, and the sacred tree all as potential landmarks. But when it came to the stars, the fire put out enough light that he had to go back up the hill for accuracy. While he was up there, he heard Nadja's call among the local animals. "Ugly wolfman comes." She sent an image that Stieg was trying to sneak around behind him.

Cicero frowned. He hadn't tried to challenge him again, but this was a good opportunity to Stieg. However, he didn't want to fight the barbarian again. Not only because he had his combat knife on him rather than his spear, but also because he would have to find a new guide most likely. Calming himself, Cicero continued to measure the stars, turned around towards the west, then said, "It's a good night to see the stars, isn't it Stieg?"

After a second, he came into view. "It is. What are you doing?"

"Recording star positions for cartographers," he said.

"With that tool?" Stieg pointed off to the north. "Just divide the horizon into eight, then four up to straight above. That's how I was taught to divide the sky for readings."

He read the stars? On second thought, that was probably a useful skill out here. "That is one way, but our cartographers will want precise measurements." Cicero held the compass closer so he could see it better. "The disk down here measures north. You hold it steady and line up this rod with the horizon," He held it out to demonstrate, picking out one of the next stars to measure, "under the star you want to record. Then move this rod up to point directly towards the star. Lock it down, then adjust this wheel to match the north direction, lock it down," He pulled it back. "And these curves will give exact angles for the star's position. With enough stars, they'll be able to tell right where and when we are."

"It makes sense, if too complicated to be practical," Stieg said. "The stars, both those that wander and those that stay a steady path, and the moon, they move in subtle complex ways but follow a pattern that is endless. It's the same way with life."

Cicero could explain to himself how this barbarian would know most things, like tracking, fishing, speaking his language, and reading the stars. It would be necessary to survive. But these words? They weren't the thoughts of a primitive man. Maybe seeing these people as just barbarians was as mistaken as discounting beliefs of other people he'd encountered. "Life following a pattern? I know there's the cycle of life and death, but events can come chaotically."

For a moment, it seemed Stieg wouldn't continue the conversation. But it was of more interest than just letting it hang. "Sometimes I wonder about that, but as my father said, the patterns of the stars extend far beyond the lifespan of any human. So too does the patterns of history. Our lives are only a small part of them, but when you look at things overall, they follow the patterns. You can misread the patterns or the stars, but they don't lie."

He nodded. "The will of the heavens is hard to tell from the ground. Well, we should get back to the camp, to make sure it's safe."

"Right," Stieg said, walking back down the hill with him. As they entered the circle of firelight, he asked, "I've heard that the empire takes in all gods as their own. Is that true?"

"To an extent," Cicero said, looking over the camp. The fire was keeping in place, the horses were sleeping, and nothing looked out of place. "The empire is made up of many lands and many peoples now. We accept any god or goddess that the people follow, even a few beliefs where there don't seem to be any gods connected to them."

"How do you do that?" he asked, confused in a way that suggested he'd been thinking it over for some time. "Each tribe here has its own god or goddess they follow, but if one were to start worshiping another one, the first would get jealous and punish that follower."

Sitting down on the ground near the campfire, he said, "I don't know anyone who worships them all at once. When I'm in a foreign land, or in a household that worships another way, I keep respectful of their beliefs and how they honor their god. But I only worship one myself. Most people I know only worship one. Maybe two or three for others."

"Who do you worship?"

That briefly made Cicero feel uncomfortable. It wasn't a question one asked an acquaintance in most cases. Then again, this was the most he'd spoken with Stieg and it would be best to continue in hopes of getting his acceptance, and in hopes of getting him to stop trying to murder him every night. "Gaia, the origin of all life. She is mother to all of the other gods, and everything that lives on our world."

Stieg raised his eyebrows at that, apparently not expecting it. "The... Great Mother? I had not heard her called by that name."

He nodded. "She's been called that by my father's ancestors, long before the empire was even a city. There are a great number of gods honored in our temples, but Gaia is a part of my life as a centurion." Once he began reciting, he unconsciously moved his right arm to his chest, as he would went giving the oath officially. "'In the name of our Mother Goddess Gaia, I will uphold her teachings and protect her chosen children of our noble empire.' That is part of what all of us swear before we're allowed to join the army. Some might not follow it as well as they should, but I work hard to live my life like that."

* * *

On the sixth night, they camped inside the forest and continued their talk from last night. Stieg found himself surprised that this soldier was thoughtful like he was. Sure, he was quite calculating, both in battle and in keeping track of their path with his map. But Cicero did speak of morals and honor, something he thought the empire didn't have any of. In this man's prayers to the sunrise and even in his dubious sparing of Stieg's life, he seemed to really care about doing good. Maybe he was just naïve.

But being naïve didn't explain other things about Cicero. Such as the way he fought. He knew battle, had even defeated a proud Varda warrior. As Stieg watched him practicing on the morning of their seventh day traveling together, he had to wonder if he could defeat Cicero. The spear was a hunting tool, but in this centurion's hands, it was a truly tactical weapon. Its length kept a good distance between Cicero and anyone that fought him, giving him plenty of time to react. In his exercises, he had multiple stances with it, one that was new to Stieg that morning. Some of them looked poor on flat ground, but he could imagine them working on other terrains.

Maybe if he got a weapon with more distance, like a bow or a sling. Or even a throwing spear. No, a thrown knife would be more effective, especially if used just out of his sight. There was a chance it wouldn't kill him outright, so he would have to aim well, or be ready with a finishing attack from his ax. He would still have to take care of that bird at some point, but he might have to accept taking damage from the fight to put her down.

That day, they had to slow their pace due to the hilly forest paths. However, Stieg knew the signs of the Arden's trails, while the group they were pursuing might not. He just hoped that they didn't run into the Arden themselves. Because of them, he kept especially alert. Bare branches did not block out the sun, so the quiet forest was bright. As the day was warming, water droplets sparkled on branches and dripped down to the softening ground. This area might soon be freed of snow and ice; a few animals scurrying through the undergrowth supported this idea.

To his dismay, he heard the calls of the Arden people on the path ahead. They knew they were approaching. "This is not good," he muttered as he slowed Smoke down.

"Are they going to be hostile to us passing through?" Cicero asked, seemingly worried about something. Maybe the princess if their group also got stopped.

"Anyone's hostile in these lands, but you can usually get away with a few words and a small battle," Stieg said, hoping that Cicero hadn't messed with any sacred trees after being warned. "But these... these people, they disgust me."

"Non-humans?"

He shook his head. "They're human. They used to worship the goddess Sentinel, part of the most widespread tribe in these lands. But then this group provoked a war with the elves and were conquered for it. Now they're slaves to the elves, forced to worship their goddess Arda. They've accepted their fate too; I'd rather take my own life before agreeing to serve those cruel elves."

A few minutes later, they came to an opening in the trees where the tribe had cleared out some ground. That meant that their village had to be close by; this opening was to screen people coming and going. About half a dozen men and women were waiting there, along with two elves. One of the elves was just a child, still holding his head aloft like he was greater than any of the warriors around him. Both of the elves wore long light blue robes that showed not a speck of dirt on them, even on the white portions. Even when walking through the forest, elves would not allow dirt to make them appear mundane like everyone else.

"I'll handle this," Stieg said quietly in the imperial tongue to Cicero, then brought Smoke closer to the group. "What do you twigs want?" he asked in his native tongue. He doubted any of this group would know how to communicate with Cicero.

Many of the humans and the elven child became nervous, starting to notice the blood red color of his eyes. That and the style of his armor would tell them what he was. Most groups would have told him to just move on. But not the adult elf. His green eyes were vibrant against his brown skin, indifferent and not to be intimidated. At his side, he kept a round shield and a sword. "Who's in charge of your group?" he asked.

Stieg took a second to consider that. He would like to tell them that he was. However, that would bring into question why this imperial solider was tagging along after him, might not even get taken seriously. It would be far more impressive to tell the truth, as shameful as it was. "He is, but he doesn't speak our language," he said, not caring that the elves had their own language too.

"Then what is he doing with you?" the elf asked, examining them from where he was.

"He's making me work for him," Stieg said. This caused all but the adult elf to get more uneasy, glancing at each other. A few even started to step away from the path that he and Cicero needed to take. If they ran, they might be able to simply pass by. But the elf could use magic.

At that time, the unspoken argument to let them go was enhanced when Nadja descended through the trees. Stieg hadn't heard Cicero whistle for her, but the soldier managed to give her an arm to land on to talk with her. "And his goal?"

"Pursuing some people who are idiotic enough to try resurrecting the demon Jutra."

Cicero brought his horse closer to Stieg and Smoke, with Nadja perched on his shoulder. The eagle was as watchful as always, more to the strangers than him. "The path ahead is enchanted," he said quietly. "It'll be hard to find the way."

That had to be the elf's doing. What were they up to? Hopefully it stalled the other group. Stieg nodded, then asked the elf in the northern tongue, "Why do you have the paths twisted up ahead? Being thugs to travelers?"

The adult elf showed interest, rather than fear, as his eyes turned to Cicero. "That is actually not my doing. A group that passed by earlier twisted it up; I came to address the problem for the villages here. They're after Jutra, daughter of Nyx?"

To Stieg's surprise, Cicero seemed to know the name Nyx, and flinched at it. Nadja started to spread her wings and opened her mouth in a soundless warning. "Yes, and it's vital that we not be delayed on our pursuit," Stieg said.

"I see." He looked to the child. "Luca, stay here and make sure it doesn't spread into the village."

"Father?" he asked, nervous. But then he bit his lip and made himself be calm. "Yes Lord Kuro, I'll do so."

He nodded, then walked over to them. "I'll come with you. I need more time to fix the forest, but you'll need me to get through there without getting lost. I'll get you out before dark."

"That's not possible from where we are," Stieg said.

"It will be," the elf said.

"Fine." Then he switched languages. "The princess' captors might have been the ones to cause this. Can your horse take an extra passenger? We need this elf to get past the forest enchantment. I don't like him, but there's not much we can do."

Cicero nodded, then brought his arm up for Nadja. "Sure. Nadja, go past the forest and find the princess again."

The eagle cawed an agreement, then took off for the sky. Cicero then offered a hand to help the elf up behind him. Accepting that, the elf patted his arm and pointed ahead. Cicero took the lead and Stieg followed. The Arden tribe seemed glad to see them go, but nervous still. He could understand it, what with the very land they lived on being mixed up by magic. Still didn't respect them any, but they had reason to be worried.

Not far from the opening, Stieg's skin began to tingle. The forest seemed almost the same, yet not. The dark branches clattered against each other in a shifting wind. In contrast, the sunlight glimmered from every direction, making it hard to tell what time it was. Or where they were, as details were blurred until they got close. The elf directed them with hand signals, keeping them at a steady walk.

At one point, the elf looked back to him. "Do you know anything about a group that's been stealing effigies of the gods from villages?"

He shook his head. "I keep to the wilderness."

Lord Kuro seemed thoughtful. "This winter, many villages have suffered from this crime. It doesn't matter what tribe it is, someone is trying to steal away the gods from the people. And to hear someone wants to wake Jutra among all this... how many are you in pursuit of?"

"Four," he said, recalling conversations with Cicero and signs among the other party's camp remains. "A shaman and a warrior of the northern tribes, a warrior of the southern empire, and the daughter of the empire's leader. The last may not be along willingly; we believe she's being subdued through curses to act as a sacrifice for the awakening."

"That matches who the villagers saw before the paths became twisted. They passed through two days prior." The elf paused, then put a hand to one of his ears. "This is... that's going to be a fight we can't avoid."

"What is?" Stieg asked.

"A monster waits ahead," the elf said, surprising them both by speaking the imperial tongue roughly. Then he swapped back to the northern tongue, far better with it. "Does he know about the curse upon your tribe?"

"No." There was no way that he could, or he would have killed him that first day.

"You should tell him." Changing languages again, the elf told Cicero, "He can not fight this. I have to make the land calm. You fight this."

"What kind of monster is it?" Cicero asked. Not a question of what trickery the elf was up to, or what he'd been talking to Stieg about. He got right to the immediate point of concern.

The elf then jumped off the horse and pointed ahead. For a moment, it remained difficult to see. Then the light returned to normal, revealing a meadow. Some rocks and a fallen tree were moving around the ground, while the dirt path kept weaving about like a serpent. In the middle of the meadow, there was an icy white horse with a long mane that looked like thick snowfall. On its back was a creature that could barely be called human. Its oily black body was unnervingly skeletal and spiky. While much of its face was blank and wrapped in its shadowy hair, it had a sharp-toothed grin that ripped right through its cheeks.

"One of Nyx's demon warriors," Cicero said, his hands gripping the reins tightly.

"No, this one is to Jutra," the elf said in a strained voice, a green glow appearing in his hand. The spell made a snap and the meadow stopped wandering. This made the demon warrior scowl; its horse screamed and stamped its hooves down.

In response, Cicero's horse merely snorted. The solider nodded, taking his spear in hand. Stieg felt briefly annoyed that he was being kept out of this fight, although he could guess why. He expected the two fighters to leave their horses, but Cicero shouted a command that Stieg couldn't understand. With this, his horse charged across the meadow at the demon warrior. It started to charge back while summoning up an icy lance, but Cicero better knew what he was doing. He put the spear right through the white horse's neck, causing it to collapse into a pile of snow. With a pull of the reins, Cicero brought his horse into a turn to avoid crashing into a tree. It was remarkable; Stieg didn't know of any horse that would charge right into danger like that.

The demon warrior shouted furiously, spinning its newly formed lance and sending spikes of ice at Cicero. With the horse slowed to a quick walk, the soldier dropped off the horse. He landed in a crouched pose for a second before darting off into the volley of ice spikes. He managed to knock a few out of the air with his spear, but it still looked like a dumb move to Stieg. Cicero could have easily avoided that attack entirely. Then Stieg glanced down and saw that the elf still had his hand held out to the meadow; his eyes were closed and sweat appeared on his skin. Whatever magic he was doing to counter the forest's curse was taking a lot out of him. Looking back at the battle, Stieg saw that the demon warrior had its back to them, focused on Cicero's initial aggressive strike against it. The demon warrior wouldn't be launching any spells their direction. Although it seemed stupid, Cicero really knew what he was doing.

He was fighting this demon in a far different manner than he'd fought Stieg a week ago, breaking its weapon and keeping quite close to it. The demon warrior seemed to be in a panic, trying to get out of Cicero's range to use its spells. Not letting it get away, Cicero kept up an intense attack until he put the blade of his spear straight through the demon's face. Defeated, it collapsed into snow, which started to melt along with that from the horse.

"Hammer, come," Cicero ordered, walking over with his horse a moment later. "Are there any more of them around?"

Once he was suitably close, the elf dropped his hand. The meadow remained, but the light turned strange again. "It was alone," he said, sounding weary. "Not far to go; we should go."

Cicero got back on his horse, then pulled the elf back up. Stieg nudged Smoke to take a few steps closer to them. "What are you being helpful to us for?" he asked in the imperial tongue. "You elves all think you're better than everyone else."

"All?" the elf asked, smiling for some reason. "You go to stop Jutra. I can tell the council, and they take weeks to decide anything, take months to do anything. They argue about the villages hit by forest curse from Jutra. I did not wait for them to decide; I came to undo it. I will not wait for a chance to stop Jutra before she wakes."

"Thank you," Cicero said. "I hope we can stop them before they get to the tomb."

When they got to the edge of the forest, the sun was close to its evening light. They parted ways with the elf there, then headed out to put some distance between them and the cursed forest. The encounter had cut a lot of time out of their travels. Maybe even enough to end this chase this week. That would be far preferable to ending up back at Jutra's tomb.


	7. An Acknowledgement of Insanity

**Chapter 7: An Acknowledgment of Insanity**

On the eighth night, they came across something Cicero would never have suspected could be here: a steaming pool of water near the base of a solitary mountain. The air was still cold, but the water was just barely hot to the touch. At least that explained why Stieg had insisted on going in a different direction the past few hours.

There were other reasons too, which he explained as they sat by the campfire. "We're close to the ocean," Stieg said, drawing a bit of the landscape in the dirt with a piece of bone. "We'll need to cross a large bay before long. If we keep going straight, we'll run into a glacial cliff that will force us another way. It's quicker to start for the path we can ascend now."

"Then we could catch up to them there when they run into the cliff," Cicero said, making notes in his travel journal.

He nodded. "We won't be traveling far tomorrow; it's going to be a hard trek on the horses to cross the bay, so they'll need to rest up for it. Take advantage of this spot, as the next few days are going to be cold."

It had to be, if it could freeze an entire bay solid enough to cross it on horseback in late March. Maybe it would be worth it to give Hammer a wash down tonight. But since Stieg felt like talking tonight, Cicero had something he'd waited to ask. "All right. By the way, what did the elf talk with you about yesterday? You never said anything about it."

For a moment, it seemed like the red of Stieg's eyes intensified at the question. Then he checked his anger and it calmed down. Cicero wondered if he'd imagined that, listening as the northerner explained. "The princess' captors managed to call on Jutra's power to curse the forest. Even if she is asleep under magic seals, she has a power like the gods."

That caused chills down Cicero's spine. "Sleeping gods are still gods," he said. Still gods, with potentially horrific powers at their command.

Stieg nodded. "Not only that, but some group has been stealing," he searched for a word before continuing, "images of the gods from many villages. Doesn't matter the tribe or the god, they take it from the people. The gods can work through their images, so taking the images can take the god's protection away from the village. He thought the thieves might be connected to the people we pursue."

"That is a terrible crime," Cicero said. Even if there were times when he doubted that the gods cared, he wouldn't take another person's beliefs away. It was a great comfort to many people that the gods might care about their fates.

"Many tribes do not agree with each other, but they would agree with that, no matter what god was taken from what village." He looked into the fire, sometimes saying something without making a sound. Cicero waited patiently until Stieg said, "There was something else too."

"What is it?" he asked. This might be the breakthrough he needed to get Stieg to actually trust him. Or to stop trying to kill him, that would be nice. Cicero hadn't gotten much sleep last night, in part because Nadja was out scouting and couldn't keep watch.

"But first, you tell me something: who is Nyx?" Stieg looked over at him. "I know you know something. You reacted to his name when you couldn't understand that the elf was calling him the father of Jutra."

Nyx. At the mention of that name, the night around them seemed darker and more threatening. Cicero's body tensed and for a moment, he had a feeling that someone was going to creep up behind him and reach right into his mind to find the best way to make him go insane... no, that wasn't going to happen. This place was the furthest he'd ever been from Klusia. "Nyx is an evil god with control over the night," Cicero said. "He's sadistic and cruel, sapping the energy from his followers while giving them just enough hope to keep them thoroughly devout. He can inflict nightmares on anyone, even if they're wide awake and he's sealed asleep. When I was fighting in a land very far from here, we had to deal with a fanatical group of his followers."

Stieg said nothing for a moment, just looked at him. It made Cicero feel nervous; what was he thinking? Thankfully, he started speaking again. "I see. Well then, what do you know about my tribe? The Varda."

Oh gods, I hope his tribe doesn't worship Nyx, Cicero thought immediately. But it probably wasn't that. "Nothing, really," he replied.

Rubbing his forehead, Stieg actually seemed worried now. Not a lot, but it was there. "I thought so much. We're not the largest tribe in these lands; we only hold a few villages along the coast. But we are recognized as one of the most powerful, and the most dangerous." He put his hand on his armor. "People up here see my armor and the craft of my horse's gear, and they know to be cautious. Then they see my eyes and even strong warriors would be afraid."

"What about your eyes?" Cicero asked, not adding that he found them creepy at times. It wasn't so bad at a distance.

"It's a sign of my power, a very bad one at that. A long time ago, my ancestors angered a demon who cursed us with a powerful blood rage. It doesn't affect women or children, but in men, it drives us berserk while making us much stronger than mortals should be. They sought to kill anyone and anything in sight, even each other. However, one of our chiefs managed to gain control over the curse, being able to keep his mind intact while calling and dismissing the blood rage at will. Other tribes need to use special drugs and hours of preparation to use the power of the berserker, and their power will never be as strong as what we can control in the blink of an eye. They can't even think straight, while we can even in the most intense anger."

"That would make people afraid," he said. He thought it wasn't as honorable as simply being well-trained in battle, but being able to turn into a berserker at will would be effective.

"But I'm different," Stieg said, touching his eyes. "This is a sign that my blood rage is stronger than that of my peers, and that I have no control over myself. When my eyes fully turn to blood, it's a sign that my rage has overcome my thoughts and I'll kill everyone around me. You and that elf are the only ones who've dared to talk to me for long in years; most people see me as a mad beast, or a demon in human form."

That was something to worry about. Stieg already wanted to kill him, and then there's this chance that he could turn into a psychotic killer at any moment. And yet, Cicero had to wonder about that. If he really didn't have control of this blood rage, he would have gone off at some point during this week. Or even at their first meeting; Stieg had certainly seemed angry then, but his eyes had held white even when Cicero had him downed with a spear over his neck. That made sense of why the elf didn't want him fighting yesterday. Thinking over it, Cicero decided that he should extend some trust first.

"That's a shame," Cicero said, careful to keep his voice calm. "I'll keep it in mind."

One of Stieg's eyes twitched at that, but didn't go psycho red on him. "That's it?"

He shrugged. "That's it. Did you think that would scare me?"

Stieg got to his feet. "You're a damned idiot," he said, angered but still not in rage. "Anyone else would be looking for someone else to travel with. They wouldn't have thought twice about killing me."

"I really don't know this land," Cicero admitted. "I have no idea where I can find a village where I could meet someone else who can speak my language well enough to help me out. Besides, you have the plans and the route to get us past the bay and the glacier. I'd be more of an idiot to leave now."

Not able to come up with a response to that, Stieg stormed off to take out his anger on something else. Wasn't that just another sign that he might have more control than he thought? Still, Cicero wished that Nadja was here tonight. It might be dangerous with the barbarian in this mood. But, was it really right to keep thinking of him as an uncivilized barbarian? He knew a lot, about the land, the stars, the animals, the history and beliefs of the northern peoples, language... he was even literate in his native and the imperial languages, as proven by his etchings in the dirt and snow. When Cicero passed by the spot Stieg had been sitting, he could read 'glacier' down there, as well as another word that he couldn't understand. Like the other lands he had visited, civilization was not the same as that in the imperial homeland.

And Stieg must have been concerned about the consequences of his power. That made him more human than demon. But how could he convince him of that? Stieg might have told him the truth, but he might not trust Cicero enough to make his words effective.

Although, did it really matter? Cicero wondered why he was concerned. Sure, he had a right to worry about Stieg losing control. But once he returned to the pass with the princess, he wouldn't need Stieg's help and they'd probably never see each other again. He'd need to watch out for other Varda warriors when he got back to investigating this area on behalf of the empire, but he wouldn't need to worry about this particular man. He should be more worried that a goddess related to Nyx was in these lands and could be waking up.

Could he take another battle like that?

Between the reminders of Nyx and the new concern that his guide might go insane at the drop of a hat, it was a horrible night for Cicero. He tried to drink some of his sleeping leaf infusion, but that kept him in a half-asleep nightmarish state where he couldn't move his body or speak. His body started to stir as the predawn light began to appear, but he felt reluctant to leave his tent. Although the sun was coming, it was still night, the time when Nyx was in power. He tried to calm his thoughts, but they wouldn't listen. Memories surfaced...

He remembered visiting the building where they locked up people who had been broken by demonic possession and insanity, seeing one of his friends from the army chained to the wall with very little left in his reach. His fellow centurion spoke of having those demon warriors invade his house and laughing at him even as he grabbed whatever was at hand to beat them into submission. When the battle ended, nothing of the demons remained, save their laughter and the man's family, all dead. He thought that some of his caretakers were demons in disguise and had thrown things at them until they convinced the others not to give him anything. Sometimes, he recognized what was happening to him. For that reason, he accepted the judge's decision to kill him by poison. He just wanted Cicero there for some reason, maybe because he understood...

No, he hadn't seen a hint of those monsters outside of his nightmares until back in the forest, and that one hadn't even been from Nyx. Knowing that he had to do something or he'd be a wreck all day, Cicero forced himself to get up and leave the tent. The sun was starting to come up, so he offered a prayer in thanks that the night was over with, asking for the strength to push this mess out of his head in order to get his mission done. Most days, he managed it. Then he decided to wash up, hoping that would help.

Watching the curls of steam rising off the water, he began to calm down. If it hadn't been for Nyx coming up in last night's conversation, he would have been all right. He could keep control over his mind. He kept control most days. But not every day... no, this was a really bad time for him to fall into this dark mood. Did Stieg have to deal with days like this too? Maybe they were more alike than he had guessed.

He figured that going through his exercises would dry him off decently well to travel, especially since they didn't plan on riding all day today. But the darker memories kept bubbling back up in his mind. Deciding to forgo his armor for practice today, he grabbed his spear and began the motions. Focus on them, let nothing else invade his thoughts. Except maybe recalling how to kill those demon warriors. He'd kill them right out of his mind if he could; that would be nice.

Just keep moving until they were back into hiding.

* * *

Last night would have been the perfect opportunity to kill Cicero. The eagle was gone and Stieg had found it hard to fall asleep. Not only that, but the soldier was making the mistake of trusting him after being told the truth. Really, who would stick around someone who had no control over a demonic power grown into his blood? The man was truly a naïve fool, definitely a spy and scout for war. There was no other explanation for the way he made notes on their travels every night and listened attentively whenever Stieg spoke. This whole missing princess ordeal was some elaborate scheme to gain the wicked power of yet another goddess, leading the empire to hold the vast majority of divine power and authority in the whole world of Gaia. Killing him would be a service to the northern people.

But it didn't seem like enough to kill Cicero in his sleep now. He needed to realize his idiotic mistakes by looking into the face of the demonic beast he was ignoring. And Stieg needed to reclaim his honor and pride by killing the man who humiliated him with defeat and mercy. Cicero deserved to die in battle. Even if that would bring the soldier glory in death, that was the only way Stieg would feel satisfied with victory. Only way, because Cicero had accepted him without fear.

Stieg opened his eyes and pounded his fist on the ground. No, that wasn't the reason he was changing his plans. Cicero was an enemy; Stieg didn't need to give him any kind of respect. Even if he seemed to be genuine when he listened and showed interest in their nightly discussions, even if Cicero treated him like a fellow human. He didn't deserve Stieg's respect because he was an idiot unafraid of his impending death, he couldn't take care of himself in the wilderness, and he was an enemy from the empire that wanted to take over the northern tribes.

As he took care of the morning's business, he didn't need to wonder why he was feeling conflicted like this. Cicero was the first person who had been around him for more than a few hours in five years. Stieg already knew that his own loneliness was an enemy; the ice dragon in his visions proved that. It was causing him to be a fool as well, delaying what he should have done at the first chance. Since he had, he needed to undo that mistake soon.

He got back to the fire and stirred up the hot embers, thinking of how to handle breakfast. To his annoyance, he considered the meal for both of them without hesitation. But if he was going to defeat Cicero properly, he wanted to do so when they were both at full strength. Even if it was going to be harder; he didn't feel like he could accept anything less.

The soldier was at his usual routine, practicing with his weapon. Although, he seemed to be more aggressive this particular morning, his moves coming quick with his eyes harsh at nothing. If he had been in battle, Stieg would have guessed that he hated his foe. Why had Cicero gone without his armor, helmet, and cloak this morning? It made sense to practice with that stuff so that one was used to the weight and resistance. Maybe he wanted to be prepared for any circumstances, including getting attacked at night when only his weapon was easily gotten. He was from a warmer land.

Watching him this morning, Stieg noticed something. Cicero didn't fight exactly the same as he practiced. His practice consisted of much of the same routines and motions. But back when he fought the demon warrior, he hadn't used any of those routines. Instead, he used portions of them, blending his moves together smoothly. Stieg had begun to notice openings in his practice routines, points where he could more easily be attacked. But in battle, Cicero would be able to cancel out those openings by keeping alert and calculating. That was what he'd done in their first battle, even if he'd been distracted by hunger. He was really good.

Really good. While he wasn't pausing much, it was apparent that he didn't have any scars. Stieg thought briefly that it might be the brown color of his skin making them less noticeable, but as the early morning light increased and the water dried off, that didn't seem to be the case. Cicero's skin was smooth and other than some toughness on the soles of his feet and probably his hands, it was unmarked by former injuries. Yet he moved with such grace with his spear, even in this inexplicable anger. That spoke of years of experience.

How had he managed that? Getting banged up and scarred was all a part of learning the ways of a warrior. If you were afraid of getting hurt, then there was no point to learning how to fight and you were going to be a cowardly burden on those around you. Even after being accepted as a warrior, there were still injuries. Stieg was particularly proud of one large scar on his left shoulder where a wide chunk of flesh had been cut out by an ax, but he had taken that enemy's life in exchange. That was before he had called on Faerge and his inherited blood rage.

But it seemed as though Cicero had never been touched by an enemy's weapon, either in training or in earnest. That should have marked him as a weak coward. Instead, this was the man who had quietly defeated him, the man who charged his horse straight into battle against a pair of demons. He was a solider who, if his stories were true, had fought in many battles in many lands. How did he get away from all that without a scar? That shouldn't be humanly possible, unless the empire had incredibly talented healers. Or unless he was just that talented.

It had to be the healers. He didn't want to give an enemy that much credit. Still... it might be his talent for battle. Cicero was using a spear in a way that Stieg had never considered before meeting him. And the weapon had been made for it, with a blade longer than spearheads he knew of. Even the black fabric hanging off the spearhead seemed useful rather than decorative as he had assumed. He could see how Cicero was considering its movement along with the rest of the spear, although its purpose was still a bit mysterious. Even if he didn't know much about it, Cicero obviously did. There was not a bit of jerkiness or hesitation in his moves. Every part of his weapon and his body flowed into one continuous movement, powerful and precise. He was an inspiration to what any warrior should aspire to be: confident, smooth, and just beautiful.

Wait, what was he thinking? Beautiful? No, no, that was just wrong. Cicero was his enemy, his oppressor who forced him to work in exchange for a foolish mercy of sparing his life. He was going to kill that beautiful man... no, that idiot! Disgusted at the turn that his thoughts had taken, Stieg got up and left the campsite to... cool off, that was it. Maybe Cicero was doing this to perversely confuse him. That made sense. Well then he wasn't going to let it get to him. Not one bit, he was going to be calm and collected just like him. No, not like him, just, not thinking about him now, that tricky bastard.

"Whatever destiny I'm after had better be worth this," he grumbled to himself.

* * *

While the sun was in the sky, Cicero and Stieg stopped by the frozen bay to make camp and prepare for the crossing tomorrow. Doing this had given them a fair amount of daylight left, which Stieg used to take his horse elsewhere to do some fishing. Cicero was left to finish building their campsite. Stieg had left some gloves with him, telling him to build up a shoulder-high wall of snow on the north side, with some edges on the east and west sides. After working on it for some time, Cicero started to figure out why: the winds here were strong, hitting his exposed skin like little icy teeth. If he tried to build a fire without the snow wall, he would either fail or lose control of it to the wind. Stieg had also advised him on how far to put the fire from the snow wall and how to build it differently.

Not wanting the snow to melt and take out the fire, Cicero followed the instructions. By the time Stieg got back with two large fish, it had turned into a fairly nice spot. The snow had melted a little to the fire, but then froze back up as much of the heat was directed away from the wall with the way Cicero had arranged the fire pit. Although they could hear the wind blowing across the bay, very little of it touched them. It was still cold away from the fire, but even he could tolerate this.

Cicero considered doing some exercises this evening, to wear out his body. If he took his sleeping weed infusion, that should be enough to knock his thoughts out of commission. But then Stieg asked him a question. "How did you get into the imperial army?"

Asking personal questions now? Maybe he could make a friend out of Stieg yet. That would help. "My mother sold me to the army when I was nine years old," he replied.

"Are you serious?" Stieg asked, seeming like he didn't like that idea.

Cicero nodded. "Yes, I'm serious."

"But why? That's ridiculous. Making slaves out of prisoners of war works because they deserve to be humiliated for losing, but a mother shouldn't be selling her son off for any reason."

"I'm glad she did," he said. "She was a slave taken from lands even further south than the imperial homeland, and she lacked the resources to raise me properly. By selling me, she was able to buy herself into freedom. Once I turned fifteen, old enough to join the army fully, I was accepted as a free man with my own wages. I was able to buy my own home not long after that and I hired her to make sure she had a decent income in her last years. We'd both still be slaves otherwise."

"Never heard of slaves able to buy themselves free," he said, shaking his head.

He shrugged. "That's how things work in the empire. As long as you work hard and keep out of trouble, you'll get your just reward. I was really only treated like a slave for my first year, then they started training me like anyone else."

"But wouldn't your father have objected, or done something to help?"

"I was never told who my father was," Cicero said. He knew that would bother other people, but he never minded it once he realized something. "Though it was fairly obvious that it was the man who bought my mother when she arrived in the capitol. He didn't even treat his wife with respect, so I have no respect for him. Never spoke to him for long, don't care to. If I'd call anyone a father of mine, it'd be the man who trained me and was eventually my first commander. He was far more honorable."

"Is that how things go in the empire?" he asked in disapproval.

"More or less," he said. He recalled how Stieg had worded his previous question and thought of a way to keep the conversation going. "I would imagine that you have more respect for your father."

For a moment, Stieg stammered in surprise. "But... how would you know? I haven't told you anything."

"Just a hunch," Cicero said, shrugging. And an easy one to make, since his father by blood deserved no respect. No hatred either; all he deserved was an easy act of forgetting his name. "What's he like?"

"He's dead." A moment later, he quickly added, "Not by my doing, as it was before I was affected by the blood rage. I admired him more than anyone else; still do, to be honest. He was a strong warrior, loyal to our tribe. But, that wasn't all that life was to him. Others think power is everything and that the strongest warriors have authority to do whatever they want. My father didn't. He was intelligent and wise, learning to read the signs of the stars and the land to be far more effective than any who relied just on power. When your people came into these lands many years ago, he had the foresight to learn their language to figure out what they were after and avoid being taken advantage of by the greedy traders. He made sure I knew those things so that I had a better standing than other boys in my village."

"He sounds like a great man."

"He was," Stieg said. For a moment, some sorrow showed in his expression. But he cut that out quickly and changed the subject, something Cicero let him do. If they talked for long enough, then surely he'd also realize that they didn't have to be enemies.

Later that evening, Nadja returned. She had news that Stieg's advice had been sound; the princess and her captors had tried to cross the frozen bay only to run into the glacier and not be able to continue. They were losing a lot of their lead to bumbling around trying to find the way around the glacier. Not only that, but in the time she had observed them, there had been some conflict between the captors. They were running low on supplies and having a hard time finding enough food for all of them.

Only the frozen bay separated their two parties now. It wouldn't be long until Cicero could start heading back home with the princess. Although, now he had to worry about Stieg's blood rage and if that was going to put Calanthia in danger.


	8. A Goddess' Gratitude

**Chapter 8: A Goddess' Gratitude**

The eastern sky turned a vibrant violet, but Dagrun was in a sour mood that morning and didn't want to appreciate its beauty. There was no fire this morning, as it had been snuffed out by the snow it melted. Wrapped in a bear fur cloak, she sat and stared at the soggy ashes while grumbling about her so-called help.

The guard from the imperial palace was really no good up here. He moved about with too much noise, making him a dreadfully poor hunter or fisher. Being barely literate, he must have been the one to write the note letting the empire know exactly where they were taking the princess. Sure, he'd been good at the start when he could get them through palace security and take several horses from the army. Now he was a burden.

While the man from her tribe was functionally a better hunter, he was hardly adequate in providing for the whole group. Not that their tribe was particularly notable or powerful. They had been small, following a weak god. Dagrun had plans to change that. However, she hadn't been able to convince one of the stronger warriors or better hunters into following her into the warmer southern lands. They thought that they could find an adequate person to awaken their new sleeping goddess somewhere closer to home. But they weren't thinking about it! The only one that would really listen to her was this numbskull who was barely pulling his own weight in the party.

The plan was ideal. Dagrun went down south to infiltrate the most powerful civilization on Gaia. Getting into the palace as a dancer and fortune teller, she observed the seven princesses and picked out Calanthia as the most adventurous and foolish of the girls. She convinced Calanthia that she was a special girl who was going to awaken a wonderful goddess of happiness. Instead, she was bringing the princess to her goddess as a vessel, to be possessed by Jutra. Then they would return back to the imperial capitol with Jutra in place of Calanthia; Dagrun could claim that she had been mistaken for the princess' handmaiden and had been dragged along to take care of her. From there, Dagrun and Jutra would take over the empire, gaining control over much of the known world. It was far more than most of the dense tribal peoples around here could dream of; her 'small and weak' tribe would become the greatest power in the world.

But the plan's execution... Dagrun was playing her parts perfectly. It was only to be expected since she had drawn up this plot. However, Calanthia was the only other one fulfilling her role right now. All she had to do was be a good puppet body for the goddess Jutra. She was singing a bit much and she couldn't contribute to getting food. She couldn't do much useful at the moment, but as the vessel, she was most important.

The other three still weren't up. Sighing, Dagrun pulled out a bag of rune stones and cast them for a reading. What should she do now? She really needed guidance from her goddess so that she could make it to her with the vessel intact and safe. Last time she had checked the insight of the stones, they said that they did have pursuers: one imperial centurion noted to be a war hero and an exiled Vardan warrior. Those two would be far more effective than the two losers she had dragged all the way up here, so she attempted to block their way with a miracle from her goddess. She had hoped to freeze the forest solid (those Ardan weaklings who managed to become slaves to elves deserved that) but ended up cursing the forest's sense of direction instead.

While that should have worked still, now the stones were telling her that the two had closed the distance even more. They were across the bay now and might catch up tonight. How was that possible? But she couldn't give up now. Dagrun pulled the stones back and cast them again with a quiet prayer to Jutra. Help us help you.

The stones gave her a plan, something that could be risky. But fighting against a Vardan and a centurion was risky too, which much worse odds for her. Taking some of the cold ashes and snow, she began casting a spell. It was time to cut the slack, all of it.

When the sun appeared, Dagrun woke the princess up. "Come, we don't have time to waste," she said.

"Huh?" Calanthia rubbed her eyes, then blinked at her. "Um... lady? What?"

"We have work to do," she said, trying to be patient.

"Sure," she said, standing up and looking around. "What's with all the white? And cold? And red?"

"Don't worry," Dagrun said, pulling her into a spell circle she had drawn on the ground.

"I'm hungry."

"It will be fine in a few minutes," she said, casting the spell. The four horses were in the circle, too cold to care about where they were. While the two men were not there, they weren't important anymore. When Dagrun completed the spell, the whole world seemed to dissolve away.

Moments later, it reformed into a snowy valley. A grand structure of ice stood before them, more like a palace than a tomb. As it should be. It was colder here, but thankfully less windy. Leaving the horses to their own devices, Dagrun picked up a clay bowl and led Calanthia into a large crack in the icy tomb.

"Wow, how did you do that?" Calanthia asked, acting like the transportation spell was the most amazing thing she'd ever experienced.

"By the blessing of our goddess," she replied. "If I could do it at any time, I would have done it many days ago. She must be just as impatient to be free."

"Oh yeah, being free is good," the princess said, smiling vacantly and starting to hum.

Past the jagged entryway, they entered a large room where Jutra's old body lay. The Varda could have done this with just one seal in a rune circle, but they saw fit to chain her down as well. They overdid many things like that, using more force than necessary to accomplish any task. But once Jutra was back in power, Dagrun's tribe would make sure to wipe the Varda out in equal measure.

"There's no flowers here," Calanthia said. Dagrun let her dance about while she carried out the heavy work of undoing all the seals. While she didn't have the strength to take out the chains, Jutra should be able to handle them herself once the magic bindings were gone.

Eventually, the seals were gone. Jutra remained asleep, but Dagrun had plans for that. "Calanthia, it's time to awaken the goddess."

"Hmm, why are we doing that?" she asked, coming closer.

"That's what you came out here for," Dagrun said, having to push aside her irritation. The curse that made Calanthia so air-headed now was needed to keep her compliant while the goddess took over her body. "Dip your hands in here and place them on her body."

She just smiled and put her hands on the bowl. When she lifted them out, they were covered in dark red. '"Oo, that's sticky and icky," she said before putting her hands on the icy body on the dais. "And cold."

It was because the bowl held blood from the two men, along with a special potion she'd been carrying to keep it from drying out. "Keep your hands there," Dagrun said, then poured the rest of the blood concoction over Calanthia's hands and Jutra's body. It vanished rapidly, clouding up the ice. "Now speak and awaken the goddess."

"Mmhhmm." Calanthia paused, with her hands still on Jutra. Then she called in a sing-song voice, "Oh goddess Jutra! It's time to wake up now! Let's see you rise and shine! Come on Jutra, time for, for, um, for life."

Dagrun briefly grimaced. This wasn't how she imagined awakening this powerful goddess. However, it worked. Jutra's eyes shifted, taking on a white glow. She started to move, causing Calanthia to lift her now clean hands off her. When the chains resisted, Jutra curled her hand around one of the links, feeling it. Then she pushed herself under the chains, slipping through them instead of breaking out. She sat up and looked at them, her icy hair shifting stiffly.

"Greetings, oh wondrous and magnificent Jutra," Dagrun said with the respect a goddess deserved. "I am your priestess and servant, Dagrun, and this is Calanthia who helped to awaken you."

"Mmm," Jutra replied, then stretched her arms up. "Yes... good for you. You... Calanthia... come here."

"Hello!" the princess said cheerfully, trying to sit down by her. The chains got in the way.

Jutra waved her closer, then put her hands around Calanthia's face. "You're pretty."

She giggled. "Thanks!"

"Your body is nice, for me." Jutra's hands began to glow as she stared into her eyes. Calanthia quieted, her body relaxing and her breathing getting slower. Then it stopped altogether. Although she appeared as if dead, Calanthia remained standing silently in front of Jutra. The goddess then got to her own feet, letting the princess go. "Such energy, strong memories... of a warm land? Not anywhere I've been."

"It's the homeland of the empire," Dagrun said.

"I know; I have all that was in her mind. So, my priestess." Jutra walked towards her, her steps slow and deliberate.

"I'm here to serve, and make you more influential than before," she said, bowing low.

Jutra put her hands on Dagrun's head and brought her to look into her face. The glow in her hands and eyes returned. "Yes... but... you've done little to give me power now. You drew on my power to perform miracles, draining me further. I feel rotten... so very weak." She drained the mind and life out of Dagrun as well.

However, Jutra felt that Calanthia had a prettier body, one that she wouldn't mind using once she had the power to endure warm flesh. She drained Dagrun even further, pulling all the color from her body and turning her into one of her servant ghouls. But, it was just one ghoul and the lifeless puppet body of this princess. She was used to so much more.

She needed more power, more life.

* * *

The trip across the frozen bay was hard. Before leaving their campsite right at dawn, they gathered some water and let it boil before putting it in any free container that was watertight. These they kept under their clothes, or between the horses and small fur blankets Stieg had. The water containers held all the water they would have for the entire day and, for a few hours, most of the warmth. With the bay ice flat and smooth, the winds had free reign to blow past them.

Because of the cold winds, they had to keep moving. Sometimes they took a few minutes to rest the horses and get them to drink some water. Smoke and Hammer did not like being out here in the cold wind, neither of them making a sound all day. Fortunately, they cooperated and didn't panic. Even during those breaks, neither Cicero nor Stieg felt like talking. It was too cold and windy; wasting energy could mean wasting warmth.

Cicero kept his focus ahead, on following Stieg across this bay to where they could catch up to the princess. The cold did one good thing: it kept his mind from wandering too much. Sometimes he did find himself thinking over his early days in the army. Things could be bad for boys brought in due to situations like his own. Thankfully, he'd come into a unit that was run by a man of strong moral fiber. Martin made sure the boys serving the unit were trained with excellence and treated well, so that they grew to be just as honorable. He also wondered for a bit if living a few weeks under military discipline might help Stieg's problem. They could break a man of a bad temper. Then again, the methods might put him in this blood rage the others seemed to fear.

Stieg kept his eyes on their goal, a path that had been carved out through the glacier by people who fished in this bay. He also thought about how they could travel around the bay once they had the princess. Realizing that he'd seen the group they were after before, he didn't think the princess could handle a day of travel like this, with icy winds bearing down on them constantly. Recalling the way she had dismounted her horse by falling off it, she could be a troublesome travel companion. But she was cursed, so she might be able to handle herself when freed. Sometimes, he found himself remembering his father and wondering what he would think of his life now.

As sunset started, they reached the other side and found a gruesome sight. A dark rune circle was drawn in the snow, with spots of blood here and there. Just outside of it, there were the cold bodies of two men, one an imperial and one a northern tribesman. Their faces seemed like they were asleep, but much of their clothing had been torn off so that many cuts could be made to drain their blood. "This is too messy to be a vampire's work," Stieg said aloud.

"You have vampires up here?" Cicero asked.

He nodded and left the bodies to examine the rune circle. "The winter nights are long; they like that." In the snow, he saw signs of four horses and two women. They had entered the circle, but they hadn't left in a normal manner. When he touched a line that was there for the spell's structure, he felt no lingering magic.

"This is the pair of men that Nadja saw with the princess," Cicero said.

"Her and the other woman are gone," Stieg said. "They seem to have called on Jutra's power again, sacrificing them to travel directly to the tomb. Took the horses with them too."

"Then we're going all the way to the tomb now."

"Unfortunately." He stood up and returned to Smoke. "We should get moving; there's a place up the trail that will be better to camp at."

"You seem quite familiar with this area," Cicero said, getting ready to leave as well.

"This is Varda territory. Not my home, but I've traveled here often enough."

* * *

It was the eleventh day they had traveled together. Had the woman with Calanthia not taken a way of magic, they would have completed the first part of his mission, rescuing her. Now they had possibly another week or longer to reach the tomb. What did it take to awaken this demon? Cicero wasn't sure, but he knew any time they gave Jutra gave her more power. Would they even be able to handle a battle against her? He didn't know how to seal a demon. Also, the last time he tried fighting against something that powerful had been disastrous, even though it had been a large group with him. Now it was just himself and Stieg.

Early in the afternoon, they spotted smoke on the horizon. It was an unusual amount, a thick column of black in the blue sky. Stieg's eyes kept drifting towards it. Knowing that this was his tribal lands, Cicero nudged Hammer ahead so he was able to ask, "Is that a village over there?"

"Should be," he said.

"You want to go check it out?" When he didn't say anything at first, Cicero added, "We know they're probably already at the tomb, so we could spare a few hours to go see if these people need help."

Stieg lowered his head. "We could, but... no. We can't. I'm still an exile; they wouldn't appreciate me showing up, especially if they were attacked already."

"Then I pray that they can recover well and get their revenge," he said. Stieg smiled a little in response.

When they got closer to the village, they came across a group of six men on horseback, shouting and celebrating something. They had a wagon there, full of bags holding large items. More tellingly, one of them was holding onto a strange statue of wood and bone. "Varda?" Stieg muttered, then furiously shouted at the group in his own language while jumping off Smoke. The horse backed off, nose flared in fright.

From what Stieg had said earlier, these warriors were particularly brave or foolish in responding to him with jeers. Cicero tried to get a better look at the statue; it was just a bit larger than a man's torso. Perhaps that's what Stieg meant by images of the gods? Then these would be the thieves who dared to steal the gods.

This did not sit well with Stieg. Cicero caught a glimpse of his face when the whites of his eyes became flushed with red, then his companion moved inhumanly fast at the thieves. Smoke freaked out fully; perhaps the only reason the gray horse didn't bolt away was because Hammer took it with little more than raising his head in alertness. Maybe the thieves were drunk off their victory, or maybe just drunk, but they continued to laugh until Stieg lopped off a horse's head and split its rider's body in half across his torso, all in one strike. They screamed and tried to get away, but it was already too late. Their horses wouldn't listen out of fright, bucking their riders and crashing into each other. In the chaos, in seconds, Stieg slaughtered them all.

Cicero's heart began to pound. Seeing what he meant by blood rage first-hand... this was very bad, he was probably going to end up dead like the thieves and their horses. But he was a soldier; he was going to fight to the end. He dismounted Hammer and ordered him to back off with Smoke. Whatever happened, he wasn't going to get far with an injured horse. Now he had to deal with Stieg.

After pursing and cutting down the last of the thieves' horses, Stieg whirled around like a mad beast, looking for his next target. Cicero was closest, keeping his spear in front of him and knowing that would not be enough. He waited until Stieg began dashing through the dead bodies towards him, then shouted, "Stieg! Stop!"

And he did, skidding to a stop and staring at him. His eyes were still red. Magic circles around his eyes and streaks on the outside of his cheeks made it seem like he was bleeding from his eyes. The marks faded... but then intensified to a bright crimson with his eyes almost glowing. Growling, Stieg clutched his ax in both hands.

"Get a hold of yourself!" Cicero said, but it didn't work this time. Stieg started running again, raising his ax in preparation of slicing him into many pieces for trying. Holding his ground, Cicero waited, then stepped aside quickly to dodge the initial blow while slamming the handle of his staff at Stieg's head. The blood rage gave Stieg the power to change his momentum this time. "Stieg!" he shouted again, ending up punching his fist and spear into the northerner's forehead. This knocked him to the ground.

For a second, Cicero found himself sweating and shuddering in fear. His hand throbbed despite the armored glove and he had heard the ax sweep right by him. He even had to check to make sure that it hadn't hit him. No wonder people feared this power. Those thieves had died so fast; he might have been dead right now if his blow hadn't connected.

It had, hadn't it? Cicero knelt down cautiously, checking on Stieg. He was unconscious. On his face, the red marks were fading again. A quick check of his eyes showed that they were returning to normal coloration. Then it would probably be safe when he woke up, but that blow was going to hurt. How bad would it be? Cicero was no healer, so he wasn't sure what all to do. Knowing that cold could help, he took some snow and put it on Stieg's forehead. Then he got up and looked over the dead thieves.

Nadja descended and landed on the wagon. "Ugly wolfman hunt good," she observed.

"He got hurt bad," Cicero said, thinking. This brief battle had horrific damage. For a moment, he wondered if it wasn't better to just kill Stieg. He could wreck this rescue mission in the blink of an eye if he lost control around Calanthia. But then he recalled the talks they had been having. Despite this curse, Stieg was still human. He knew right from wrong, if in the way these northern people kept. It wasn't fair that he had to live with the constant guilt and worry that he could turn into a crazed demon capable of this massacre with little to no warning. If there was some way to give him control of it, or even take the blood rage from him, he needed it. For that, he should live.

Cicero paused when he saw the fallen statue in the blood and mud. Picking it up, it did not seem terribly damaged. Maybe some of its bones replaced, definitely cleaned up well; it could be back to normal with a little work. It appeared to be a human with a wolf's head, claws, and tail. Was this truly an image of Varda? In the wagon, he could see that the bags contained other statues. One like this, another like a woman, one in a bag of a totally different shape. This one that had been out, so it probably belonged to the burning village.

"Nadja, is there a village where the smoke is?" Cicero asked, knowing that she could see that far in the sky..

"Yes," she replied. "One thing burn. Other things fine." She cawed. "That belong to a god, village belong to same god."

"I thought so." And where there was a village of warriors, there might be a healer. A plan formed in his head. "Nadja?"

"Yes master?"

He turned and pointed to Stieg. "Keep an eye on him; make sure no one hurts him. I'm going to get someone to help him." When she hissed, he added, "I know you don't like him, but he's helping me. Protect him."

"Yes master Cicero," she said, letting him feel some of her reluctance. "No one hurt ugly wolfman. He hurt you, I hurt him worse."

"I know, thank you," he said, heading back to Hammer and Smoke. He got back on his horse and headed out to the village, taking the god image with him.

Following the smoke, it took several minutes for him to approach the seaside village. As Nadja had said, other buildings seemed fine, but one large building standing outside the main cluster was smoldering. None of its structures remained standing. Many of the villagers were standing near the ruined structure; men and women were armed, readying themselves to go hunt for the group that had done this. As he had heard, they wore leather and fur armor much like Stieg did; the couple of horses being prepared had the same spiky faceplate. Hopefully they wouldn't attack him outright. But if they did share the same power, they would have control over it.

He was noticed, of course, and discussed about. A woman carrying a vicious-looking sword at her hip came out to meet him, her eyes soon falling on the god image in his hand. "What you do here?" she demanded in heavily accented words.

"This belongs to your village, right?" he asked, offering her the statue.

She looked at him with wary suspicion, then took it. After giving it a look over, she said, "Return Varda. Ours, yes. The, the bad ones, they...?"

"They're dead," he said. "They had more of these."

She grinned at him, then ran back to her neighbors, shouting in their language and showing that the statue had returned. Cicero dismounted Hammer and walked over with the horse as the Varda villagers cheered. Greeted warmly by these people, he got a number of bows from them and a few light punches to his shoulder, seemingly a good thing. The woman who knew the imperial tongue came forward with a man who wore an impressive beaded headpiece on top of his shark-headed helmet. "This village chief, Oslo."

He nodded. "Good to meet you Oslo. I'm Captain Cicero, from the empire in the lands south of here."

After getting some of that translated, the chief spoke. It seemed the woman couldn't translate it entirely, but she was doing her best. "Good to meet too. Many thanks for return of Varda and defeat of bad ones. Cicero, we give you any reward. Like chief's daughter?"

"No, that's not what I want," he said, shaking his head to make sure she got the meaning. Then he pointed out to where he had come from. "My friend, he helped take out the thieves... the bad ones. He got badly hurt and needs a healer."

It took a few exchanges, but it seemed he got the point across. They were happy to send along an older woman who brought many bags of supplies, for whatever she might need. She, the translator, and Cicero soon headed back on horseback to where the battle had taken place.

* * *

A throbbing pain and dizziness in his head. A weight on his chest. The smell of blood. The heat of the blood rage lingering in his body. Stieg quickly realized what was going on. He'd lost control at those lousy drunken thieves who were dishonoring the effigy of Varda. Thankfully, they would be dead. Probably Cicero too, finally. It was a pity he couldn't remember the fear on the soldier's face on facing the power he had dismissed so coolly before.

He had killed him, hadn't he? This time, something lingered in his memory after the blood rage took over. It was Cicero... Cicero calling his name. Ordering him to stop. For a brief moment, Stieg had seen through the bloody haze and recognized the person he saw before him. Then Faerge's fire overtook him before a painful blow. Had Cicero stopped him?

Stieg opened his eyes and didn't see a hazy red tint on everything. Instead, he saw a blur of blue and black. The black moved, like the tilt of a head and the opening of a beak. Then a voice spoke directly into his mind. "No moves, ugly wolfman."

"N-Nadja?" he asked, feeling another wave of dizziness as he shifted his head. Something watery slid down his nose. Blood? No, too cold. It was whitish. Snow.

"Nadja better hunter than you," she boasted. "Not messy."

"Where's Cicero?" The sky seemed bright, so he squinted. It didn't help him focus on the eagle on his chest much.

"Cicero get healer. Back soon." As his vision cleared, her expression was spiteful. "You lucky, no hurt Cicero. Ugly wolfman hurt master Cicero, Nadja rip your eyes and guts out alive."

Stieg didn't doubt that she could do that. So, Cicero had defeated him again, this time while he was in his blood rage. Was that man blessed by the gods to be invincible? But he again didn't kill Stieg. Instead, he was going to get a healer for him. Seriously? How foolish could he be after seeing the power of the blood rage in person? Or maybe he could afford to be foolish because no one could defeat him.

He decided to stay still and wait. Before long, he heard the beat of three horses on the ground, coming his way. Cicero had returned with two women. One of them spoke in a poor imperial tongue. "That eagle tame?"

"Not really," Cicero said. "I control her."

"You... have wild eagle?" she asked, bewildered. Once he confirmed that, she spoke to the other woman. "Well he says that eagle is wild, but he seems to think he can control it." While she spoke, Cicero whistled, causing Nadja to hop off Stieg's chest and fly to him.

"Foreign people may have foreign powers," the older woman said. She came up to Stieg, but once he looked at her, she jumped back. "Oh gods, it's a wretched one," she muttered.

"Nice to see you too," he replied sarcastically.

"Now how do I say this?" the translator asked, worried. She gave it her best shot. "Uh, Cicero? This man... not tame too."

"It's fine, please take care of his head injury," Cicero said. After a moment, he added, "I know he's not tame, as you put it. I can handle him."

"If you say," she said, then told the healer, "I don't know what's with this imperial man. He seems to think that he can control this wretched one too."

"That's because he can," Stieg said, getting an extra pounding in his head for his effort. "He has a way with beasts, it seems."

The healer came back to his side. "Then, you must have taken out the thieves to rescue Varda, but then he managed to stop you and return Varda to us?" She brushed some snow off his forehead, making him wince as it was tender. "Stopped you with his fist, it seems. The heavens wouldn't be able to have mercy on anyone Cicero gets mad at, if he can do that."

"I've noticed," Stieg said.

Despite her reluctance, the healer went ahead and mixed up a potion for him on the spot. Once he drank a portion of it, she formed a poultice and wrapped a bandage around his head. "There may be a lump on your head for a couple of days, but the deeper effects will linger longer," she said. "Drink a portion of this, to the width of your smallest finger, thrice a day to kill the pain and hurry the healing. And, I would say avoid use of your blood rage for the next five days, but you'd have trouble with that."

"Right, thank you," he said.

"Still, you've done a great deed for us." She bowed her head. "May Varda see it fit to help you, even as a wretched one."

The healer and the translator then left to return home. Once Stieg could move without his head spinning inside, he and Cicero headed off again towards the tomb. While he didn't feel like he could ride for long that day, he did want to get away from the site of his most recent killings as much as possible.

"Their attitude shifted at the end there," Cicero commented while they traveled.

Stieg grimaced. "Of course it did. Do you know how many people can stop an out-of-control Varda berserker on their own power?"

"Not many, I imagine."

"Before today, I knew of no one who could. My father wouldn't have dared and he knew of no one but another berserker who could manage. The elders of my village would have said it impossible. But you did." He snorted. "They're probably terrified of the both of us."

Cicero was quiet at that for a moment. "I see. It was a close call; I tried to call your name and order you to back down."

A strange flutter of nervousness passed through his throat as Stieg recalled the little bit from the battle. "I remember that. I hardly remember anything from when it overtakes me." Did that mean Cicero had nearly broken through Faerge's control? But, that was ridiculous. They weren't... it wasn't like that. "Weren't you scared?"

"Terrified," Cicero said. "For a little bit, there wasn't much separating you from the demon warriors."

Shame and anger flushed through him. "Then why didn't you kill me? You saw what I can do."

He shook his head. "Even if you were like them, you're not one of the demons. You're a child of Mother Gaia like anyone else. And you seem to be doing what you can to regain control of yourself. You deserve the chance to do so."

"You're an idiot," Stieg said, but then had to clench Smoke's reins tightly as the dizziness returned.

Cicero noticed right away. "We should stop," he said. "I'll set up my tent and you can sleep in there."

What was with this man? Stieg didn't like feeling so dependent on an enemy, but he tried not to argue as they stopped to make camp for the night. He didn't even argue being given the tent. But he continued to feel a deep shame mixed with something else.

Maybe gratitude?


	9. An Unlikely Alliance

**Chapter 9: An Unlikely Alliance**

On the twelfth day, they couldn't travel much because Stieg kept getting dizzy. After he fell off his horse unconscious from it, Cicero made him rest for several hours before they tried to continue. He didn't even wait the second time, insisting that they stop and make camp for the night when Stieg started losing focus. Stieg thought he could get around it by taking more of the healing potion, but Cicero talked him into taking what was recommended instead.

This was embarrassing; Stieg had to lie down and rest while Cicero set up the campsite again. He hated having to depend on someone else like this. Although he had to admit to himself that it was less of a shame than trying to continue and getting injured again while chopping wood, setting up the fire, or something like that. His body was bruised from the fall earlier today and his hip was sore despite the medicine. From the feel of things, he didn't think he broke any bones. He was lucky their pace had been slow at that moment.

He closed his eyes for a bit, thinking he'd help out once his head cleared up. This led him into dozing off until it was dark. Sitting up slowly, he spotted Cicero and Hammer coming back to the campsite from somewhere. "You doing better?" he asked with friendly concern.

"Some," Stieg said. "What have you got?"

He held up a burlap sack. "Produce, not entirely sure what. I spotted some of your people checking over a field for farming, so I went to see what I could trade them. Had to wrestle one of them to get them to take me seriously, but I got this for a couple of ginger roots."

Ginger? That was a rare item to see around here. He had a feeling that they'd shortchanged him on that trade, but it would help make their meals more interesting. "Let me see what they got you," he said, taking the sack from Cicero.

"I, well, got a rabbit on the way back too," he added, showing the corpse in his other hand. A small one, but there wasn't much to expect from a rabbit caught this time of year. "That was tougher than I thought."

"Have you never hunted before?" Stieg asked, somewhat in disbelief.

"No," Cicero said. "It was never in my duties to take care of meals for the army."

There was an insult waiting, but Stieg declined to say it. Cicero was trying to help. Putting the produce identification on hold, he started to get up. "I could... ugh..." He dropped back down, his head hurting again.

"Don't push yourself," Cicero said. "I can handle this."

"You know how to prepare a rabbit?"

"Sort of?"

Stieg sighed. "Go get my hunting knife and cooking pot. I... I'll talk you through it."

For the trade of a ginger root, Cicero had gotten some onions, carrots, a couple bags of dried herbs, and some large squashes, the last of which could easily make several meals by themselves. Stieg helped him salvage the sloppily killed rabbit and make a stew of it with an onion and carrot. One of the herbs did well as a thickener, so it would have to be watched for the amount of liquid in the pot. Cicero said he had black peppercorns too, but Stieg declined that offer; those were even more valuable than the ginger, not something to waste. On hearing that this would take almost overnight to finish cooking, Cicero agreed to stay up and keep watch over it. He seemed to get it, so Stieg wasn't too worried.

He still stayed up for a little while, to talk while he felt decent and make sure his lessons on keeping the temperature level steady stuck. "I'm sorry about being trouble the past couple of days," he said.

"It's fine," Cicero said. "You're the one who knows how to get where we're going, so I'm not going to leave you behind."

He was making it hard to hate him. That thought caused Stieg to wonder if he really had to kill Cicero. Sure, he was taking down information for the imperial forces, but he wasn't hiding that fact like a spy should. And one would think that Cicero would pick an easier target for his guide, one that might not kill his rescue effort. When he spoke, he was honest, even admitting to being afraid of Stieg's blood rage. He didn't show a lot of emotion, but what did come out was positive, even caring for those who hated him. Cicero should be an enemy, but he acted more like an admirable friend.

"Did you come here to prepare for war?" Stieg asked. "It might sound abrupt, but I thought that about you at first. Now I'm not so sure."

"In a way," Cicero admitted, showing far less concern for it than his questions of Stieg's condition earlier. "I would rather not be the one who brings war up here, but some people back home have ambitions for the empire to rule over the whole world. If I can, I'd like to get an alliance somehow. The people here are broken up into many tribes, but getting good connections to a few and setting up more active trading would work better than trying to conquer, in my opinion."

"You're a solider; fighting is your trade."

"Yes, but that means I've seen how badly such efforts can go and what effects they have on the people. I really don't want my legacy to be violence in bringing grief to others."

"You know, the more I learn about you, the more complicated you seem."

Cicero chuckled a little at that. "That's how people tend to be. I ought to tell you about this one couple I met while I was in Idrel. Seemed like a simple pair of old lovebirds who took care of sheep and chickens the first time I met them, but then while I was arranging a deal to check out part of their land for a band of thugs, a storm brewed up and we had to wait it out for the night before returning to camp." He continued talking and Stieg found himself listening with interest.

Later, Cicero offered him a mug of warm water infused with some leaves that he said were good for falling asleep. Stieg took it and was soon much too tired to keep talking. As the fire crackled quietly, he drifted off to sleep thinking on all these foreign lands and peoples that he'd never given any consideration before. There was a lot more to the world than he had imagined.

* * *

It was a quiet watch that night. Cicero heard the howling of wolves nearby, but the animals didn't approach the fire. Bubbling slowly in the pot, the rabbit stew was starting to smell really appetizing. But it wouldn't be done yet; Stieg thought it could take until morning. So he kept the fire fed and steady.

Thankfully, his thoughts kept under his control instead of delving into the darker parts of his past. He considered his mission to rescue Calanthia. This was a really long delay, having the kidnapper use magic to get to their destination in seconds rather than days, then having Stieg temporarily in bad condition. Still, there was some good in it. They had some extra food now, quite different from the fish, boar meat, and whatever else could be scrounged up they'd been stuck with. And he had Stieg as an ally now, rather than a reluctant guide to be cautious around. As he had shared his goal to try avoiding war, he could ask more questions about the tribes here, to figure out which people would be the best to talk with.

Stieg had been interested in his stories about other lands. Such places were interesting. Of course, Cicero was finding this icy wilderness to be interesting. It was cold, which wasn't so good, but he'd walked on the edges of a mountain of ice and crossed a bay on horseback, two things which he'd never considered trying before. What would it be like if he brought Stieg to other lands and had him see what else could be?

That would be interesting. If he took him to Idrel, where hot deserts made up much of the landscape, he'd have to convince him to not wear so much fur, to avoid overheating and the sand messing it up. But there were stars that only appeared that far south, and oasis springs that offered spectacular sights with beautiful plants in the parched sands. Or Liyra, with its vast grasslands, centaur herds, and the flying artificial island of Dref Drer.

Or even the imperial homelands. There were the rich hilly farmlands where olives, grapes, and wheat grew lush every year, almost all year. There were the grand aqueducts that stretched across the land to bring fresh mountain water to the towns and capitol. And the capitol city; he would really be impressed by that. If the small coastal village was normal here, then seeing the grand city where nearly a million people live... that'd be quite a shock to Stieg. Cicero could almost imagine it.

Then he'd have to show him the city gardens, where a patch of nature grew within the city of concrete and stone. And the giant stadium where horse races and large team games were held. Or the outdoor theaters, or the any one of the exquisitely crafted fountains spread throughout the city. Maybe even the imperial palace? That'd be hard... definitely the area where many of the city's temples were located. The buildings up here seemed to be made of sticks and mud, so to see a building of marble and gold that could house that whole village and then some... what would he be most impressed by? It was hard to decide.

Although it would be amazing, Cicero didn't think such a visit would turn out well. Even he had initially thought this land to be inhabited by uncivilized barbarians at first, when he was more considerate of the foreign peoples of the empire than others. Stieg might speak the language, but if he showed up dressed as he did here, he'd be looked down on or ignored. Some people might see him as a curiosity to watch rather than a person to talk with. And if he lost control of his temper there, the city guards wouldn't give him a second chance. They'd kill him as soon as they could, maybe even before someone got hurt.

Maybe after he gained control over his blood rage? Or just maybe not at all. That was sad to think about. Cicero considered not thinking about it anymore, but the daydream was just too enticing. Maybe he'd bring Stieg back to his house and tell him of a few more pleasurable activities within the city. It'd really be interesting to bring him to some of the secretive bathhouses that didn't let children inside.

No, now he was just being silly. Cicero looked at the stew and noticed it was bubbling a bit too much. He added some water, tried to cool off a hot spot, then went to fetch some more water. While it was a nice little daydream, it wasn't reasonable. This alliance, unlikely as it had seemed at first, would fade away once his mission was over. There was no sense in getting attached and putting more meaning into it. Just a dream that didn't matter in the end.

* * *

The rabbit stew had made a really good start to the fourteenth day they were traveling together. Stieg was feeling better, so they were back to making good progress the next few days. Once they were past the glacier, mountains loomed along their path. That terrain slowed them down, but it meant they were close to their goal.

There were a few paths where, due to loose rocks and ice, they had to dismount and walk their horses through. By the seventeenth day together, mountains surrounded them with snowy peaks and steep slopes. Sometimes Nadja flew overhead, but mostly she scouted the paths to help them find the right way. Stieg had warned about avalanches, but there were times when they ended up talking while walking, to pass the time. "So what's this princess of yours like?" Stieg asked.

"To be honest, I don't know her all that well," Cicero said. "I've only spoken with her twice and the first time was insignificant enough that I don't remember it."

"Then this is just doing your job, I guess." From other things he'd said and spoken of, that made most sense.

He nodded. "Right. That and they got the mistaken impression that she liked me." That meant that he had to explain about that false date he had with Calanthia. But it didn't bother him.

"If it wasn't for Jutra, I'd almost say leave her," Stieg said.

"I already agreed to bring her back home, so that's what I'm going to do," Cicero said. "It was orders direct from the Emperor, so it would have been foolish to refuse." After a moment, he added, "She's a pretty girl, I'll admit that. But not one I'd want to stick around for long. She's trained to fight with a spear too. We sparred for a bit until we got interrupted. From the way she fights, she takes it as a hobby but is really good despite lack of real experience. And I think she was trained in the same style as me."

"At least she'd be of some use then, if she can fight too." Someone who couldn't fight needed a really good contribution to make up for that lack, Stieg thought.

"She also likes poetry, and that's about all I know of Calanthia," Cicero said. "There was another guy who thought I was off pursuing the girl I loved in some romantic adventure, but I don't have anybody special like that. It's not easy to get attached when I know I'll be heading to some other corner of the world in a few months, like I seem to be the past few years."

"What about with the people who travel with you?" If he didn't normally take care of the food, then he had to be traveling with other soldiers and servants most of the time. Even if it might not be ideal, there could have been a woman he was interested in that group. Stieg wondered about that, then wondered why he was wondering that.

Cicero shrugged. "It happens, but is discouraged so I don't want to set a bad example. Besides, I've had a lot of friends in the army die. It's still a risk."

"I see."

"What about you? Did you have a special girl before you got exiled?"

"Yeah, but, she's also not one I'd return to," Stieg said, kicking a pebble along. The day was still strong. By the angle of the shadows, he considered looking for a spot to get the horses some water and a short break. "Don't think I can, actually. She might've gotten married from something I overheard, but I haven't been able to confirm the rumor. Besides, she didn't try that hard to help me. Last time I saw her, she screamed at me."

"Yeah, that's a good reason to not go back with her," Cicero said. Before long, he changed the subject to asking about how village life was here. Stieg didn't think that could be an interesting topic, but they ended up talking about it for the rest of the day.

* * *

It had been three weeks and here they were, surrounded by dark mountains coated in ice, snow, and fog. The path between the mountains was overtaken by a frozen river; cracks from it could be heard all day as water rushed underneath the thin ice. To avoid that, they had to take higher paths atop treacherous ledges. There were points when they had to walk single file along some ledges to avoid paths that the horses would be unable to take. A rock had fallen ahead Cicero and Hammer at one point, with only a moment's warning from Nadja to stop. However, there were no other paths.

At the end of the day, they came across a small pond with a cluster of pine trees. Here they found four horses milling around, still wearing gear and sacks from riders that were nowhere in sight. One of them had a style of hoof covering that was similar to what Smoke had, while the other three all had imperial-style horseshoes. Those three also responded immediately to Cicero's command to line up. "Definitely horses from the army," he said, looking over the white horse in the group. "This one in particular is special; white ones are reserved for the Emperor or people he favors."

"It helps in getting her back quickly, although we'll have a few too many horses," Stieg said. After looking around, he added, "We're close now. Could possibly make the tomb by dark, but then we'd be trying to get out of there at night. We don't want to stick around that place. Better to camp here and go in tomorrow morning."

Cicero nodded. "Right. Might as well see what supplies they have."

The white horse did have some of the princess' things in its saddlebags: a dress, a few other clothes, a hairbrush, and a bundle of wilted flowers. The other horses had various items like firestarters, rope, two knives, a flint, a badge for the palace staff (which might have gotten them through some obstacles), an extra tent (missing one of its stakes), water canteens, and a few long-keeping travel foods. With the extra supplies, it'd be easier to travel with the princess along. The four other horses were eating the pine needles and young grass, which there was plenty around for them, Hammer, and Smoke.

"What's the tomb like?" Cicero asked when all the work was done and they were eating by the fire.

"It's partly a big ice cave and partly a palace," Stieg answered. "It has two towers, but I didn't look around beyond the big room at the entrance where Jutra was. While the area's mostly flat, the nearby mountains surround it like a fortress. But it has this horrible feeling to it. Stark, and kind of insane. The horses won't like it."

After reviewing what they knew about the situation, they decided to go to sleep early and prepare for tomorrow. Cicero made his sleeping leaf infusion strong tonight. While waiting on it to take effect, he went to his tent and thought over the coming conflict. There was so much he didn't know going into this: if Jutra would be there, how powerful she was at this point, if she was awake, how Calanthia was doing, how well she would cooperate, where the woman with her was, how much of a threat she was. Thanks to Stieg, he knew a bit about the lay of the land and the structure the princess was most likely in, although less than he was used to in terms of battlefield intelligence. They would have to make due with what they knew; a second attempt could be tougher with their enemy expecting them and knowing more about them.

He also gave a long prayer to Gaia. There was a lot that could go wrong tomorrow, including Stieg's power. If the goddess watched over them, it might go smoother. He began feeling tired at the end of it, but mentally repeated a common prayer as he lay down. It would be better for keeping his mind from being distracted by darkness. Shortly before he fell asleep, he heard singing outside. It was a familiar voice, so he put it out of mind.

Elsewhere, Stieg went through his tribal rituals for preparing for battle. At least those that he could perform on his own. Sharpening his axe, making sure his armor was in good shape, making a charm for victory... the last one he made of a short string with bone beads. He didn't have proper supplies to make an exact charm by painting it, but he was able to etch some runes in. It wasn't entirely his battle, but he was helping a friend. To help Cicero out, Stieg carved in runes to ask the gods and spirits to guide him, help him achieve his goal, and protect him from the evil power of Jutra. On the last bead, he also tried to ward off his blood rage with some protective runes. It would not help to lose control.

Would a simple victory charm help restrain Faerge? Stieg wasn't sure. Victory charms were just a small favor to the gods. Victory itself had to be earned. However, it was better to make one and avoid offending an observing god by not asking for their help. Charms didn't guarantee such help, but it made it more likely.

Stieg finished off the charm with a secure knot, then placed it on his right boot, in a hook made for such things. He then sang a song for Varda, praising his god and asking for him to watch the coming battle. However, it didn't fire him up like such singing had in the past. It made him feel a longing for his home village, of times when he'd be singing with his family and neighbors in preparation for some raid or town defense. This kind of song didn't sound as good when sung alone.

How long had it been since he made preparations like this? Stieg hadn't sung the pre-battle song in his entire exile, at least. Most of his battles in this time were spontaneous, such as when someone sought to kill him or when he had punished the thieves. Many of those battles, he did not remember fighting. Maybe he should have done so before challenging Cicero at first. Then again, if he had and won, nothing would have changed. He was still influenced by Faerge, but this new friendship was quickly becoming worth the shame of a single loss.

Most of the time, the rituals ended with the songs and the warriors would rest or go seek out their enemies, depending on when the battle was due. Tonight, Stieg spent some time praying to Varda. He was exiled from the tribe, yes. But in helping to rescue the effigies of Varda and other gods, perhaps he had earned some reprieve. He prayed that he would be able to keep control of himself tomorrow and in the days after, in whatever way he could, so as not to mess up Cicero's mission.

The prayers restored his confidence. Maybe it was the presence of Varda reassuring him? Whatever it was, as he lay down and drifted off to sleep, he felt a hope that his trials would soon be over.

* * *

Icy winds blew through the tomb but the only creature that stirred was Dagrun's ghoul. Her already fair skin had paled with a coating of ice, so the wind did not bother her. In this state, nothing could bother her. She paced around the ground level rooms, searching for intruders. Those were her orders; all she knew now was Jutra's orders.

In the main room, Calanthia lay on the dais that Jutra had been on. The chains had been torn away, thrown into a corner in case they could be useful later. The princess' body did not move in any way, not even to breathe. She didn't need to breathe now, as Jutra's magic kept her from decay. In her mind, there were no thoughts at all. Those had all been stolen away.

As darkness fell outside, a white raven flew in from one of the upper windows. It descended into the main room, which was still lit by magic within the ice walls. In a few wing beats, it transformed into Jutra's ice body. "It had to be one of the smallest tribes around to revive me, didn't it?" she asked in frustration, rubbing her forehead. "And I have to be surrounded by wilderness no one wants or the lands of the accursed Varda. I definitely need to move to get anywhere useful to recover." But then she needed energy to move and set up a new home fortress. The people she had drawn energy from were not nearly enough to help her make a satisfactory fortress and stay strong enough to repel invaders. They were too small-minded, too weak.

But there was a way she might be able to get the energy she needed, as well as two far more useful servants. Not far from here, there was the pair of men that were coming to rescue Calanthia. They were resting tonight and would easily make it here within a few hours of travel. Jutra had observed the two for a short time, until some crazy eagle tried to make a snack out of her raven form. As one was a Varda warrior and the other (from Calanthia's knowledge) was a too serious centurion, it was unlikely she could convince them to join her. It might happen; both held some loneliness and emotional pain that she could use as an argument to lure them in. But both also held strong wills that would not be easily tempted.

There was always the method of killing them and bringing them back to life as ghouls. That appealed to Jutra: a battle with survival at stake, the shedding of warm blood, the pain of life ending. Watching that was such a thrill, especially when it was done in her honor. That would help give her energy. Drawing on their memories and lives afterwards would give her more.

Smiling in anticipation, Jutra waved to the princess' body. "Up you come. I've got an idea, but I need to make sure I can handle this."

Calanthia sat up and got onto her feet. That was easy; speaking through would be the difficult part. Connecting her mind to what the princess had left, Jutra stood still as she worked on controlling two bodies. Calanthia's body began to breathe again, just enough to start saying, "Iiiiiiiiiitttt iza eeeeee..."

"It should be easy," Jutra said slowly, through both the ice body and the flesh body. "Looks like I'll need practice. Very well. Let's go up to the tower; I think it will work out better if the flesh is there." She walked towards a narrow hall that led to a staircase, Calanthia's body walking in sync with hers.


	10. A Fortress of Ice

**Chapter 10: A Fortress of Ice**

Taking Smoke, Hammer, and the white horse with them, Stieg and Cicero started off early to reach Jutra's tomb. It was a quiet day, eerily so. The river was further away on this path, so its rushing and cracking was obscured. While other mountains might have animals and birds around, this area didn't. There was a feeling around as if one was caught in a disdainful gaze, with someone haughty and cold watching those who traveled her lands. The horses were quiet out of unease and caution; so were they. After some time, they found the trail of two people walking through the snow; it was several days old but undisturbed by weather or other trails.

Shortly before noon, they came to the opening where the tomb was. Cicero marveled at how it could look like a fortress, a palace, and a glacier all at once. The main part of it might be mistaken for a large frozen rock, with a large crack in the center. However, there was a light coming from the door-like crack, there were two ice towers that weren't natural, and some of the roughness almost looked like mural reliefs. If it was a relief, it had faces that were screaming and crying in pain. This wasn't the palace of someone kind.

They left the horses near the trail and checked around outside. This area was just as still and silent as the mountains around it. Finding nothing there, they quietly decided to have Cicero enter first. He had a larger shield and could more easily drive an enemy back with his spear. There was nothing in the narrow hall, and nothing in the large entrance room. But that nothingness was more worrisome: there was no body on the large stone slab in the center of the room. Chains were dumped in a pile in one corner while the stone the Varda had left a warning on was broken into several pieces.

Cicero felt nervous briefly, but soon realized that he didn't feel any power trying to reach into his mind. Either Jutra couldn't do that or she was away. Looking around the room, there seemed to be three ways to go: two halls to the towers, and one hall opposite the entrance that led ahead. He glanced over at Stieg to see if he had any ideas, but then the silence was broken by footsteps.

From the hall across the room, the woman who'd been with Calanthia entered. She had fair skin like Stieg, but hers was tinged with pale blue and icy patches. Her eyes were covered over by ice, which seemed to glow with magic. On seeing them, she screeched and threw small icicles at them. The attack bounced off their armors, but it might do serious damage if it struck them just right.

"She's a ghoul, just like the stories say," Stieg said. "There's no saving her now."

Cicero nodded and the two of them ran over to strike her down. The ghoul wasn't strong, wearing clothing rather than proper armor. Once she was taken out, Stieg made sure to cut off her head, possibly as a method to make sure she wouldn't reanimate. Her body didn't bleed at all, although some of her skin started to melt.

No more ghouls appeared. Nothing appeared; silence returned to brood over the tomb. "Let's split up to find Calanthia and get her out of here," Cicero said. Now he knew why Stieg didn't want to be here; the icy surroundings were unsettling and he felt like someone hated him. His guide agreed to the plan and went towards the tower to the right of the entrance. Cicero headed for the left tower.

The ice created a drunkenly wandering way through the fortress tomb, but he could see down much of the hall. The walls were solid with no indication of rooms beyond the tower. Past an arch doorway, he found a round room that was taller than it was wide. Ledges of ice jutted out of the wall, making an uneven spiral staircase. Overhead, there was a solid block of ice with a portion cut out so that the staircase reached above it. There were lights and shadows coming through the ice, some moving. Careful of his footing, Cicero climbed up the stairs. The ledges held, but some did shift under his weight. They might not last long.

At the top of the ledge stairs, he found a doorway blocked off by thin spikes of ice. Calanthia was in the room behind it, sitting on a bed which was unusually wasn't covered by or made of ice. She looked up at the door, probably able to hear his footsteps. But she didn't call out or move. For a moment, Cicero wondered if he should get Stieg and his ice-breaking equipment. The stairs were a worry, though, and these spikes didn't look that tough. He brought his shield up, then threw his weight against them. The spikes shattered instantly and what few remained were easy to kick out of the way.

Calanthia watched him in surprise, then disappointment. She was dressed in a thick fur cloak, possibly made from a bear given how large it was. Near her on the bed, there was a steel sword with a blade longer than usual. She wasn't chained down or restrained. If it hadn't been for the spikes... but she was a strong woman, she should have been able to knock them down herself.

"Oh, you're the one who came after me?" she asked, more puzzled than relieved.

Cicero was already starting to think over how he would explain things to the Emperor. This was not looking good, but it was a bold risk to suggest that one of the Emperor's daughters might have acted against the empire. "Yes, I'm here to take you back home," he said, keeping his voice even and calm.

"Oh," she said again, tapping a foot on the floor and not getting up. "I thought Aeolus would come after me."

"He did," Cicero said, finally getting her interested. "He gave up less than a week into the pursuit. Come on; we need to get out of here quickly."

Calanthia shifted her weight, still not getting up from the bed. "I don't really want to leave."

"Your father wants you back home, safe," he said.

An angered look crossed her face. "I'm sure. But he doesn't really care about me. He just wants to keep me in place. I'm freer here in the north than I am in the palace; they let me do what I want mostly and say that I'm important to them." She brushed some brown hair out of her face, then had some idea and smiled at him warmly. "Why don't you stay up here with me? Then we don't have listen to what other people want of us and instead, do something great. We're going to revive a goddess that can bring unending happiness to absolutely everyone. That's a lot better than going back and me fighting with my overbearing father, and you going off fighting everywhere. Please, stay here with me? It'll be so much better."

She didn't understand, Cicero thought. She lived a blessed life in the palace and thought it was too strict. For that, he didn't feel any sympathy for her. "I told your father that I would bring you back home," he said sternly. "And that's what I'm going to do, whether you want it or not."

"This isn't how it's supposed to go," she muttered, looking down. Her shoulders slumped as if she didn't have much energy.

Walking over to pull her to her feet, Cicero said, "Let's go. Be careful on the stairs."

She grabbed the sword and quickly held it between them. As she got up, Cicero noticed that something about her eyes didn't seem right. Her lips were turned down in a frown, but her brown eyes showed no expression. "I am not going," she said, finally getting up in order to fight him.

* * *

Looking further into this place, Stieg noted that it must have been a fortress abandoned by whatever tribe had built it. Parts of the structure had broken and fallen down, but Jutra's ice made much of it whole again. Breaks in the wall were solid ice, while weakened supports were reinforced with thick ice. However, this did not go for the right tower. Its stairs had fallen down and the sky could be seen overhead. He continued to explore.

The rooms in back could only be accessed from the back hall; doorways in the side halls were closed off with ice. He saw a few signs of spell work in some rooms: rune circles on the floor, melted candles nearby, scrolls left on tables. Someone was using this place, but who? The ghoul wouldn't need anything, wouldn't be able to use magic like this. Jutra, holding god-like powers, could use miracles instead of magic. Perhaps others?

Although Stieg expected to run into Cicero on the other side of the central hall, there was no one in the rooms on that side. He did spot Jutra's ice body lying on a table, next to a staircase that headed down. It didn't look as realistic as it had when he had been here. Messing with the forest must have sapped her power to maintain it. Good, less of a chance of her reviving. To make certain, he brought out the knife he used to carve ice with and jammed it into her head between where her eyes should be. The ice cracked to where another blow broke it apart. There, that ought to keep the demon from coming back, at least to this body.

He then went downstairs to see if the imperial princess was down here. The light here was less constant, with a few bright spots and many dark shadows. At the bottom of the stairs, he finally heard something other than his footsteps: the sharpening of a blade. Following that brought him in sight of a young woman like the one he had watched briefly a few weeks back. She had brown hair in a high ponytail that dropped down to nearly her knees, along with the darker skin of the imperial citizens. She wore a thick white cloak of bear fur closed around her body, making it hard to tell if she had armor underneath. With a practiced hand, she was sharpening a long bladed steel sword.

That did not seem like something a prisoner would be doing. However, Cicero's task was to get the princess back alive. For this, attacking immediately was not a good option. "Are you Princess Calanthia?" Stieg asked, keeping a hand on his battle ax.

"Hmm?" She glanced over at him, then smiled in a dangerous fashion. "I could be. Who are you?"

"That's not important," he said. "Now are you or are you not Calanthia?"

She dropped the sharpening tool, lifting the sword up easily. "That is an interesting question. You see, there's two princesses here, me and another. But, only one of us is really Calanthia. Is it me, or is it the other?" She giggled. "Because Calanthia will be possessed by our great goddess Jutra, and Calanthia is imitated by the grace of our great goddess Jutra. So which Calanthia is possessed and which Calanthia is the imitation? Can you figure it out, wretched warrior of Varda?" She brought her sword up in front of her face, then dared him to fight her.

"The fact that you know my tribe is a good sign that you're not her," Stieg said, taking his ax out of its holder.

Before he could start the battle, the princess replied, "Oh, we talked about it. We knew there were two of you coming after us, a Varda exile and a centurion. But you know, Princess Calanthia isn't just some pretty flower from a palace garden. She's a strong warrior. The other princess was probably found by Cicero. He hasn't come by here, has he? My guess is that she's defeated him already."

Angered at the statement (which he thought would be false), Stieg growled in challenge and attacked her. She managed to block him with her sword. From the feel of impact, he knew she wasn't bluffing. She pushed him back with just that block. After a few attack exchanges, he could tell that she fought in a similar style to Cicero. Keep the enemy at a distance, keep movements limited and efficient, force the enemy to waste energy in moving and attacking, then strike when the enemy grew tired. While his friend hadn't outright said that was his philosophy in fighting, Stieg knew that it was. He'd watched Cicero practice every morning even after giving up on the idea of killing him. He wasn't quite sure why, but that was the routine.

All those observations were finally paying off, as he knew how to fight this princess. He could defeat her; the long sword didn't look as efficient for their school of fighting as the spear was, so he should be able to get to her side and attack through her guard. But she might be the real one and he needed to wear her out so Cicero could figure it which was which. Faerge's fire tried to burn through his body, but Stieg kept it restrained.

* * *

The tower room was not a good place for a fight. There wasn't much room and there were several pieces of furniture aside from the bed. After a minute of defending so he could get his bearings, Cicero moved closer to Calanthia to disarm her. If he had to, he could bind her wrists so that she couldn't attack. Whatever it took to complete his mission, even if it was against her will.

She kept trying to step away, but then would need to get back close to attack with the sword. Cicero recognized the moves of his teacher Martin in her attacks. While he preferred a spear in battle, he knew how she would use the sword and could plan his moves around that. Hoping for a chance to get out of this small room for the fight, he circled around until Calanthia had her back to the doorway. Then he darted in close to her, shoving her back with the handle of his spear. He took a hit on his arm that cut through his armor. To do that, the sword would need incredible sharpness and good strength in the wielder. This close quarter attack was a risk, but it got the reaction he wanted: she stepped back through the door and onto the stairs.

Once she realized that she was out of the room and in a bad position, Calanthia hurriedly walked and hopped down the stairs. Cicero pursued her, but once she was four feet from the floor, she jumped off and shouted. Somehow, this caused the ice stairs to collapse, dropping him immediately. He shifted to land better, but sharp edges of ice tore into his legs and right hand as he did. It was a sharp cold pain, causing him to gasp a bit. Calanthia ran out of the tower and down the hall, to the back area of the tomb fortress.

Cicero was bleeding, but he wouldn't let that stop him. He got back up running, chasing her through the hall. At the end, she turned and bolted into the first doorway she could enter. He followed her down the stairs where he heard the sounds of another battle going on. His left leg gave another jolt of pain, forcing him to pause briefly at the bottom. There, he saw a confusing sight: Stieg and two Calanthias, both dressed in the white fur cloaks. The one he'd been pursuing joined the battle with her unexpected twin, striking Stieg's dominant hand with a disarming blow. From the look of things, Stieg had been doing well against the other Calanthia. But the two of them soon had him at their mercy, with intent to kill him with a dual strike.

Ignoring the pain from his fall, Cicero rushed to defend Stieg. The further Calanthia was closer to hitting the northern warrior, but he was able to deflect her sword with his spear, knocking her off balance briefly. He then brought his arm up to knock the other's sword out of the way.

Not in time; the sword cut through the top of his armor, very nearly stabbing Cicero in the neck. It was the worst physical pain he had ever felt, throwing his mind into a moment of shock as she pulled the blade back out of him. Was he still alive, or about to be dead? He looked over and saw that Stieg had not been hit in the attack. That was... good.

* * *

Cicero passed out, blood on his neck, arms, and legs. Where had he and the other princess come in from? But that question quickly left Stieg's mind as a red blur of fury filled him. His blood rage overtook him and he didn't care. Ignoring his ax, he punched the princess that was off-balance into the cold anvil she'd been using as a surface to sharpen her sword on. Then he threw the other one into a pillar, getting a yelp of surprise out of her. But if they killed Cicero, they didn't deserve any mercy.

Wait, that was... a strong feeling, but a very clear thought. Stieg jumped back and dropped down to grab his ax, noticing his thoughts and this battle. This wasn't like before. While he could feel the incredible power in his blood, he could also think. He had control over it now.

As incredible as that was, he didn't have a moment to lose. One of them was the real Calanthia, possessed by Jutra's power. The other was a fake, probably a ghoul Jutra had made to look like the princess. With her ice body destroyed, Jutra might be acting on a spiritual level, making it important to break the possession. The first way he could think of to do that would be to kill the fake. But Cicero was unconscious and if Stieg took too long, Jutra might manifest a stronger presence able to use miracles.

The princess he had been fighting was getting back to her feet, a cautious but angered look on her face. As her cloak shifted, he could briefly see bruises on her arm; her chest moving in breathing heavily. The princess who had come in with Cicero was standing up by the pillar. One moment, she looked almost dead with her face still. The next, she looked as cautiously angered as the other. And despite the fact that she had been running and fighting, her chest was not moving to take a breath.

The latter one had to be the ghoul. Using the increased quickness of his berserker state, Stieg rushed to her and swung his ax straight through her neck. She stopped immediately, her frozen flesh not bleeding a bit. He turned immediately, trying to find some sign of how to break the possession on the real princess. However, slaying the false one was enough. Calanthia's anger broke, leaving her startled. "Oh..." she said, closing her eyes in some peaceful relief before collapsing as well.

After a quick look around to make sure that there were no other enemies, Stieg attempted to dismiss his blood rage like he did his trances. It worked, leaving his vision and mind clear. It was a strange peaceful feeling, but one that didn't last as wondered if Cicero was alive. At that thought, nothing else seemed to matter. Stieg ran a few steps back to him and dropped down to check on him. He seemed to still be breathing. Unlatching his armor, he found that the wound on Cicero's chest was bleeding heavily. He grabbed the nearest piece of fabric, Cicero's dark red cloak, and ripped off a piece of it to stop the bleeding. He was bleeding in other places too, but none seemed as bad.

A few minutes later, Cicero still wasn't conscious. But most of his bleeding had stopped and he was alive. Stieg did all of the healing tricks that he knew of, and could do here, mostly placing herbs to stimulate healing against the wounds and then binding them in cloth. After that, all he could do was hope and pray that it was enough. And realize that the princess they were after was unconscious too. He got up to check on her, but her wounds were not as severe, mostly bruises from when he'd punched her. Her skin was cooler than it should be, even with the fur cloak. But then, it might be an effect of being this place for several days.

She came to while he was working on her. "Ugh, what's going on?" she murmured, her eyes not focusing at first. Then she looked up at him and squealed, shoving his hand away. "Ee, what're you doing to me?"

"Making sure that your injuries are tended to," he replied. "How do you feel?"

She scooted away and sat up, then rubbed her head. "I'm kinda achy. What happened?"

"There was a fight. Are you Princess Calanthia?"

"Yes, that's me." She looked around at the dark icy dungeon. "Where are we?"

"In the northlands, princess," Cicero said, now sitting up as well. He grimaced, stopping from getting up entirely.

"You be careful over there," Stieg said, looking at him. Cicero was checking over his bandaged wounds. "You got out of it worse than we did."

"You two are all right?" he asked, latching his armor closed.

"For the most part."

"What's going on, Cicero?" Calanthia said, standing up. "Who is this, and where are we?"

"Let's get out of here first," Cicero said, carefully getting up. He wavered a bit as if light-headed, but stayed on his feet. "This is my guide, Stieg. You can trust him."

They managed to get out of the fortress fine, although Cicero was holding his hand against the wall at points. Once they got back to the horses, Stieg searched out the bottle of cider that he kept separate in case of bad injuries. He usually declined drinking it himself, always thinking there might be a worse injury later on. He poured out a full cap of it and gave it to Cicero.

As expected, he grimaced on first taste. "That stuff burns. It'll definitely kill the pain, I can tell."

"Are you going to keep alert enough to ride?" he asked, considering the closest decent camping site. None would be as good as the one they were at last night, but enough to get away from the tomb.

"I'll be better once I get on horseback and off my feet," he said. "We should try going back to where we left the horses; the rest of the path didn't seem hospitable."

He nodded. "Fine, but don't push yourself."

"Unlike you?" he replied, making Stieg laugh. Cicero remained as serious as usual, perhaps his way of dealing with pain.

"So when are you going to tell me anything important?" Calanthia said, getting on the white horse without being asked to.

Stieg mounted Smoke and took the lead as the most alert person in the group. "What do you remember? You were possessed, so we're not sure what you know."

"Well..." she nudged her horse into moving, looking up while thinking. "I remember sitting in the music room playing by moonlight. It was like the start of a romantic poem." She giggled. "And then, um... I dunno. Picking flowers and riding horses. Am I asleep?"

"I thought you said you ran off to awaken a goddess," Cicero said.

"The one you were fighting was a fake made from a ghoul," Stieg said.

"That explains some things."

"I don't know anything about this," Calanthia said. "What're we doing up north?"

"You were kidnapped to act as a vessel for a demon," Stieg said. "Not romantic at all, and definitely not a dream."

"But it could be a romantic story, if I was," her voice trailed off. Then she asked, "Hey, do you know what happened to Aeolus? I thought he would have come after me if I got in trouble."

"He's a poet, not a fighter of any sort," Cicero said. "He left the capitol with me, but gave up within a few days because he couldn't handle waking up to bugs."

"What kind of weakling can't handle bugs?" Stieg asked. It sounded ridiculous.

"Oo, don't make fun of him because he knows how to speak and behave better than you two," Calanthia said in annoyance. However, that attitude quickly went away as she started talking about rather silly things, like wondering aloud where all the birds and flowers were. Perhaps she wasn't entirely free of the absent-minded curse she had been under.

It was slow progress back to the spring where the other horses were. Cicero stopped talking after a while; Stieg continually glanced back to make sure the two of them were still riding and somewhat alert. That and keeping track of their trail took up much of his day.

* * *

Underneath her silly surface act, Jutra fumed as she rode the white horse between the princess' rescuers. It seemed she had miscalculated, both in her current strength and in that of these two men. Splitting her attention between two bodies in different rooms had been more difficult than she planned for. Then she thought that the exile was one of those without control, only to find that he had control over an immensely potent blood rage. She thought she had killed the centurion, first in collapsing the stairs under him then in stabbing him in the neck. But here he was, conscious with strong alcohol dulling his pain.

However, the worst of it all was which body had been killed. She had made a replica of her ice body as a diversion, keeping it unused on a table. Then she placed the princess' flesh body in the tower while her old icy body was made up to look like the princess in the dungeon. The Vardan warrior had decided, for whatever reason, to kill the flesh body. Now they were going to take her in her ice body down south, to an empire that rarely saw snow! With spring developing even here, the coming months were going to be miserable.

Jutra didn't mind acting like an air-headed girl any other time. Actually, Calanthia was thoughtful, if with her head in the clouds. These men didn't know her well, wouldn't notice the difference between the real princess and her acting to their expectations. No, what she didn't like was how this wasn't part of her plans. It was a bit of Dagrun's plan and Jutra was loathe to accept the ideas of a mortal. But it was looking like she'd have to deal with it.

On reaching their intended campsite, she began whining about being weary and confused again, hoping to get out of work. It didn't work; Stieg set her to chopping firewood and setting up a fire (her, goddess of winter, setting up a fire! Unbelievable!) while he put up a pair of tents. Cicero was allowed to rest on a log, although he started helping her with the fire when she simply tossed the wood into a pile. He even got to rest in the first tent that was up, primarily because of his injuries.

"Do you want something to eat before you go to sleep?" Stieg asked as darkness fell.

"No," she grumbled. "Can I sleep now?"

He nodded, his thoughts distracted in one thing or another. Jutra didn't care what; she entered the other tent and plopped herself on top of the bedroll. She hated losing! Hated, hated, hated it. These two didn't even give her a satisfying round of suffering to make up for it, even though Cicero nearly died in the battle.

But he could still die, Jutra thought. His injuries were bad and now that he was resting, he wouldn't have the energy boost of being on high alert. That must have gotten him here, but now... he should die. Die die die, die Cicero. Jutra closed her eyes and thought that until the body managed to achieve sleep.

* * *

Once the camp was settled and the other two asleep, Stieg finally got some time to think over the day's events. In particular, on the thing that was most important to him: finally having control over his blood rage. It was exactly like others had told him. Sitting by the fire, he could call on it himself without losing control, although it took longer than when he had been in battle. He could keep track of his thoughts and had an increased awareness of what was going on, like things had slowed down and his senses all grew sharper. He was stronger and quicker, and when he didn't need such inhuman powers, he could cut it off as quickly as it came. In fact, rage was a better word to describe the uncontrolled state, not the controlled.

But why was it today that he gained control? Maybe his studies as a shaman were paying off? But then, he hadn't actually done much on that part the past few weeks. He had managed to only go berserk twice this past moon cycle, which was a great improvement. His studies in meditation and stone reading may have helped, but if it was that, he would think that he'd enter the controlled rage in the same way he entered a trance: by calming himself down and quieting his mind. That was far from how it had triggered today.

The other method that he knew of was to find his soul mate, someone he loved enough to fight for her sake. Maybe he was supposed to be with Calanthia? But that didn't make much sense. Stieg felt that Cicero's judgment had been sound: she was a pretty woman, but not one he wanted to stick around. Then again, this wasn't a good day to be learning about her. Her mind was still affected by being cursed for three weeks and she might not be used to traveling so much.

Even if he could think of reasons behind her behavior, it didn't change how he felt. Calanthia was annoying. Sure, she was strong and could be taught to live well in these lands. But that would require her giving up her self-important attitude in order to learn their ways. Not only that, but Stieg had only really met her after the battle. Before that, she was influenced by Jutra. It did not seem right that she would ever be that important to him. Sure, he knew some people who said they knew their soul mate the moment they met. Stieg didn't feel like that had happened to him. He wasn't thinking about her constantly and being happy for it. Instead, he kept trying to think of other things rather than listening to her. She was not his soul mate, he felt that deep in his heart.

A feeling of anxiety bundled up in his chest. Stieg paused a moment to look around, wondering why he felt like that. Nadja was perched on a rock as usual, watching the area with her intense eyes. The horses were gathered in the shelter of the pines, asleep. Cicero was in one tent, with Calanthia in the other (which was missing one of its support items; Stieg hoped it was secure). With the fire's light, he didn't see anyone else around. The air was still quiet, but now he could hear the river again. Perhaps it was Jutra's spirit, he thought. Would she be able to take Calanthia back over?

Nothing seemed to be wrong aside from this feeling, so Stieg went back to reviewing the battle. He had been doing well against the possessed princess. Even though she had been stronger, he knew the tricks of her style and could use them against her. He might have been able to win if it had remained just the two of them. But then the ghoul princess had interfered and disarmed him. She was equally as strong; his wrist hurt a little recalling that. As expected, they had been moving in for a killing blow or two. That was when Cicero jumped in and nearly got killed instead.

That was the moment his blood rage activated, when Cicero looked to him before passing out. There wasn't a thought to it, just a feeling that the two women had to pay for hurting him like that. Thinking on that reminded him of a week ago, when he had gone into a blood rage at the thieves and had nearly stopped because Cicero called him. Then was it Cicero who gave him control over his power? That was a lot easier to accept than Calanthia. But why him? Was it because he was in love with Cicero?

Part of his mind wanted to believe that didn't make sense. Finding his soul mate, the one person he'd love for the rest of is life, in a man? That didn't seem right. But it felt right. He could recall how Cicero practiced every morning, a graceful and powerful person who prayed to the rising sun. While he looked at everything with a seemingly detached objectiveness, he had the compassion and bravery to stick with a person others feared as being like a demon. He was trained in war, but used those skills to find a way to peace. Stieg admired him for that. Admired him greatly, would like to be a fraction as good as he was. But more than that, he wanted to stay with Cicero. He had lived in these lands all his life, had sworn that he would fight any outsider who would threaten the people here. He thought he'd live here all his life, but if it meant being with Cicero, he would leave to go to the imperial capitol, or anywhere in the world.

He wanted to see Cicero smile. Realizing that, he wondered if he had seen Cicero smile at any time. Nothing came to mind. Even when making a joke earlier, he didn't really smile. Previously, he had thought Cicero had no emotions at all. But that couldn't be real; he was just really good at hiding how he felt. Then what could make him smile? Stieg thought that would make him even more beautiful than he was.

Noting the fire weakening, Stieg stirred it around and added a new piece of wood to it. As he did, he got the feeling again that something was wrong and he wasn't noticing. There was nothing obviously wrong. Maybe it was just what he was thinking about. It was one thing to realize that he loved someone, but how would he admit it to anyone else? Even Cicero. Would they think he was crazy? That could be trouble, but then he felt that wasn't what was wrong. Mystified, he retrieved his rune stones from one of his bags and cast them. They should be able to hint at what he was missing.

The stone's answer: the one he loved was in danger. Stieg got up immediately and went over to the tent Cicero was in. There were no unexpected tracks around, no beasts lurking nearby save for the horses and Nadja; the eagle wouldn't hurt Cicero and was watchful as always. For a moment, Stieg wondered if he could ask Nadja what was wrong. But he wasn't sure if he'd get an answer and if there was something dangerous around, she would already be after it.

Stieg crouched down and crawled into the tent, only thinking that it might be rude when he was already inside. However, Cicero was asleep and didn't stir to him coming in. There were tinges of red around the bandages on his chest wound, which seemed swollen. Stieg touched him lightly and found his skin hot with fever. On unwrapping that bandage, it was clear from the color and swelling that the wound had grown worse.

It was a danger that he couldn't really fight, Stieg realized with increasing terror.


End file.
